.     " 


NORWAY    AND    ITS    FJORDS 


BY 

M.    A.    WYLLIE 


WITH  SIXTEEN   ILLUSTRATIONS   IN  COLOUR  BY 

W.   L.    WYLLIE,   R.A. 
AND  SEVENTEEN   OTHER   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW    YORK 

JAMES    POTT    &    CO. 

1911 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

PAGES 

The  charm  of  the  open  sea — The  pilot — The  shelter  of  the 
Fjord — Gogstad  and  the  Viking  ship — A  If,  the  timber 
ship — Drammen — Oscarborg — Carl-Johans  Gade — The 
Viking  ship — Gear  and  the  sepulchral  chamber — Old 
burials  —  Funeral  rites  —  Hervor  rouses  Angantyr  — 
Angantyr  threatens — Tryfing  is  flung  to  Hervor  .  .  1-16 


CHAPTER  II 

Christiania — Ancient  and  modern  art — Early  painters — Dahl, 
Fearnley,  Baade,  and  Frich — Adolf  Tidemand — Gude, 
Cappelen,  Carl  S.  Hansen  —  A  gruesome  story  —  An 
execution — Collet,  Ender,  Otto  Sinding — Three  brothers, 
Heyerdahl,  Krohg — Erik  Werenskiold — Fritz  Thaulow 
— Eyolf  Soot,  Gustav  Wentzel — Peasant-born  sculptors 
— Mathias  Skeibrok,  Stephen  Sinding — Casts  from  the 
antique  ......  1 


CHAPTER  III 

Christiania  —  Holmenkollen  —  Oscarshal  —  The  fairy  -  tale 
room  —  A  Norwegian  winter  —  Notable  men — Cleanly 
Christiania — The  oldest  railway — Lake  Miosen — George 
Bidder  the  calculating  boy — Gudbrandsdal — The  saeter 
of  Mork  —  Phyllis  of  the  uplands  —  "  Gammel  ost " — 
Lonely  farms — The  store-house — Longing  for  saeter  life  32-47 


2221077 


vi  NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 

CHAPTER  IV 

PAGES 

Laurvik  —  Colin  Archer  the  shipbuilder  —  The  Fram  — 
Nansen's  simple  means  to  attain  his  end — Skien — Henrik 
Ibsen — The  Saetersdal — Saetersdal  costume — The  oldest 
glen  in  Norway — Christiansand — Oft-painted  Jaderen — 
Stavanger  —  Stavanger  cathedral  —  Karmo  —  Kopervik, 
Haugesund — Restless  waters — Flatholm  Fyr  and  Hafrs- 
fjord  ......  48-61 

CHAPTER  V 

The  wondrous,  beautiful  Hardanger — A  stony  intruder — 
The  Barons  of  Rosendal — The  Folgefond— Crossing  the 
Folgefond — Sundefos — Horses  manage  the  climb — Odde, 
the  end  of  the  Sor  Fjord — Waterfalls  in  the  environs  of 
Odde— Utne— The  Thing  —  Oksenfjeld  —  King  Utne's 
runic  stone  —  Delightful  Norheimsund  —  Musical  sur- 
roundings— Hunt  the  fiddler — Strephon — A  descendant 
of  Ole  Haugen — The  Hardanger  violin — Medaas,  Isak 
Nilson  of  Botnen — The  Ofsthus  Fos  in  sunlight — An 
uninterrupted  view  of  the  river  .  62-83 

CHAPTER  VI 

National  dances— The  Battle  of  Svoldr— The  polska— The 
hailing  dance — A  panacea  for  mal-de-mer — Awaiting 
Olaf  s  ship — Anger  of  Eirik  Jarl — The  real  Long  Serpent 
— Sigvaldi  Jarl  manoeuvres — In  battle  array — Ulf  replies 
— Olaf  fights  most  boldly — The  doings  of  Eirik  Jarl — 
Desperate  fighting — Comes  Hyrning  with  his  followers 
— Thorkel's  advice — Success  of  Thorkel's  advice — Great 
is  the  JarPs  luck—  King  Olaf  dies  .  .  .  84-101 

CHAPTER  VII 

Bergen  on  the  By  Fjord — Binding's  monument — Ole  Bull — 
Madame  Malibran — Adelina  Patti — Death  of  Ole  Bull 
— The  laurel  wreath  —  A  study  of  human  nature — 


CONTENTS  vii 

FACEI 

Tydskebryggen — Modern  Vikings — Defrauded  Jepsab — 
The  Hanseatic  House — History  of  the  League — Decline 
of  the  trade — The  primitive  jagter — Queer  seamanship — 
Old-time  battles — Description  by  Samuel  Pepys — Ludvig 
Holberg — His  early  life — His  death  .  .  102-122 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Bergen — Grieg — Music — The  Nordaasvand — Edvard  Grieg 
— Troldhaugen — "  Just  a  bar,  please  " — Grieg's  forebears 
—The  influence  of  Ole  Bull— Richard  Nordraak— "  Jeg 
elsker  dig"  —  Franz  Liszt — Peer  Gynt — Sb'r  Fjord — 
Bolstad  Fjord — The  Vosse-Elv — The  ceremony  of  name- 
fastening — Voss — Verdandi,  Norse  representative  of  the 
present — Voss  Church — The  old  Finneloft — Hrolf  Blakar 
— Adieus  to  Voss  .....  123-143 

CHAPTER  IX 

The  Sogne  and  Naero  Fjords — Aurlands  Fjord — "Let  go" 
— Karjoles  and  stolkjaerre — Fjord  horses — On  the  road 
to  Stalheim — Stalheimsklen — Great  Jordalsnut — The 
road  to  Bakke — Norwegian  cattle — A  perfect  rainbow — 
Fjaerlands  Fjord  and  Mundal — Bojumsbrae — Suphelle- 
brae — Alone  at  the  foot  of  Bojum — The  haunt  of  the 
Jotnar — Balholm — King  Bele's  Bautasteinar — Runatal — 
Odin's  Song — What  Odin  learned  from  the  runes — An 
artistic  home — Time  and  tide  wait  for  no  man  .  144-166 

CHAPTER  X 

Loen,  Merok,  Naes,  and  Molde — Hornelen — Loen — Lake 
Loen  —  Turf-roofed  gaards  of  Naesdal  —  Nonsnib — 
Kjendal — Merok — A  zigzag  road — "  Cherrmans  to  dee 
front " — Geiranger  Fjord — Under  the  shadow  of  mighty 
cliffs— The  Romsdalshorn— The  valley  of  the  Roma— 
The  Mongefos — How  the  water  falls — Molde — Molde 
Fjord — Charming  surroundings — Bjorntsjerne  Bjornson 
— Pure  peasant  stories — Voluntary  exile — Jonas  Lie — 
Alexander  Kielland  ....  167-190 


viii  NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 

CHAPTER  XI 

PAGEI 

Trondhjem  and  its  Kings — Trondhjem  Cathedral — Advice  to 
visitors — Back  to  comfort — We  are  of  one  tongue — The 
bard  as  an  historian — Scandinavia  and  ancient  Greece — 
Heathen  gods — Old  records — The  Peace  of  Frddi — 
Trondhjem  and  its  Kings — Harald's  vow — The  Norman 
March— Ganger  Rolf— "The  Ballad  of  Rou"— The 
Norman  Flood — Harald  Haarfagre — Haakon  the  good 
Christian— Olaf  Tryggvason— Halfred  the  Scald— His 
song  of  the  heathen  gods — Saint  Olaf — Magnus  and 
Harold  Hardraada — The  Vaeringers — Peaceful  Kings 
Olaf  and  Eystein — Troublous  times — Bernadotte — The 
Storthing — King  Haakon  vn. — Military  service — The 
new  militia  ......  191-221 

CHAPTER  XII 

Torghatten — Mrs.  Pilot — Narvik — Lofotens — Tromso  and 
Lyngen — Hestmann  and  the  Sisters — The  bolt  that  sped 
— The  pilot's  wife — Lofoten  Islands — Hardy  Norsemen 
— Torfisk  and  Klipfisk — The  world's  consumption  of 
dried  fish — Vaags  Fjord — Tromso — Midnight — Cluster- 
ing pinnacles  —  Lyngen  —  Lapp  Encampment  —  Lapp 
clothing  and  ornaments  —  A  Lapp  baby  —  Balto  and 
Ravna — Lapp  boots — An  Englishman's  experience — 
Home  life  amongst  the  Lapps — A  warm,  dry  shelter — 
The  Kota — The  tent — A  picturesque  group — Norway's 
desert  boundary  .....  222-246 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Hammerfest  and  North  Cape — Soro  Sund — Dr.  de  John's 
dark  brown  cod-liver  oil — Nansen's  welcome — Meridian- 
stotte — Fog — The  Bishop's  belief  in  the  kraken—  Octher 
"  encreases  knowledge  " — Hjelmso — North  Cape  flora — 
Norwegian  trees  and  flowers  —  Wild  animals  —  Hans 
Haugen — Homes  of  the  elk  deer  and  glutton — Lemming 
— Lemming  seek  submerged  Atlantis — A  Lemming  year 
— Linnaa  borealis,  national  flower — Reindeer  moss — 
Eider-duck  rugs — Warm  and  comfortable  .  247-267 


CONTENTS  fx 


CHAPTER   XIV 

PAGES 

Eozoon — The  Devonian  Age — Triassic  and  Jurassic  times — 
The  Ice  Age  —  Deep  fjords  —  Neolithic  man  —  Early 
workmanship — Jotnar  and  Thursar — Icelandic  poets — 
Eddas — Sagas — Aud,  Queen  of  Dublin — Burnt  Njal — 
The  beardless  carle — Bergthora's  avengers — Sigmund 
— Skarphedinn  sings  a  mocking  song  .  .  268-285 

CHAPTER  XV 

Spitzbergen — The  life-giving  Gulf  Stream — The  phantom 
ship  —  The  hardy  hunter  —  H.M.S.  Calypso — Famine 
bread — The  Fox  and  East  Glaciers — Cutting  up  whales 
— Fulmar  petrel  —  A  whaler  —  Fauna  —  Poor  Balcena 
hoops — The  snow  bunting — The  height  of  the  midnight 
sun — Latitude  80°  24'  N. — Prince  Charles's  Foreland — 
The  beliefs  of  the  Vecti— The  daughters  of  Ran— The 
coast  of  Britain — The  Thames  once  more  .  286-306 

INDEX    .......        307-315 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN  COLOUR 

THE  VECTIS  AT  CHRISTIANIA     .           ,          .  Frontispiece 
TIMBER  BARQUE  OFF  STAVANGER         .           .    Facing  page  6 

CHRISTIANIA  FROM  HOLMENKOLLEN     .           .  „         33 ' 

THE  FOLGEFOND  FROM  NORHEIMS  SUND        .  „         75 

BERGEN  FROM  THE  PUDDE  FJORD        .           .  „        102 

TYDSKEBRYGGEN,  BERGEN          .          .           .  „        no 
HOUSE  OF  EDVARD  GRIEG  AND  THE  NORD- 

AASVAND         .....  „       125 

VOSSEVANGEN        .          .          .          .          .  ,,136 

NAERODAL  ......  ,,151 

BALHOLM  ON  THE  SOGNE  FJORD          .  „        160 

LOEN  ELY  ......  ,,170 

TRONDHJEM           .....  ,,191 

LOFOTEN  ISLANDS            ....  „       226 

TROMSO  (MIDNIGHT)        .  „       232 

HAMMERFEST         .           .  „       249 
GRAVES  OF  NORWEGIAN  WHALERS,  RECHERCHE 

BAY,  SPITZBERGEN     ....  ,,291 

IN  MONOTONE 

VIKING    SHIP    FOUND    AT    GOGSTAD,    NEAR 

SANDE  FJORD.           .           .           .           .  „         10 

BEDS  FOUND  IN  THE  VIKING'S  SHIP     .  ;,         IO 

'SISTERS"  ......  ,,25 

By  Hans  Heyerdahl 


xii  NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 

CARVED     DOOR    FROM     OLD     CHURCH    AT 

HALLINGDAL   .....    Facing  page  29 
"NORWEGIAN  WINTER'S  DAY"  .          .  „         35 

By  Fritz  Thaulow 

"A  SOLITARY  COUPLE"  ....  ,,45 

By  Adolf  Tidemand 

"MELTING  SNOWS"          ....  „         58 

By  Fredrik  Collet 

"THE  BACHELOR"  ....  ,,85 

By  F.  Fagerlin 

KARJOL  AND  FJORD  HORSE,  NAERODAL          .  „       147 

NONSNIB,  LAKE  LOEN     ....  ,,172 

"THE  FUNERAL  OF  A  PEASANT"          .          .  ,,183 

By  Erik  Werenskiold 

TRONDHJEM  CATHEDRAL.          ...  „       194 

"FROKOST"  (BREAKFAST)  ...  „       220 

By  Gustav  Wentzel 

"SCENE  IN  THE  LOFOTEN  ISLANDS"    .          .  „       228 

By  Otto  Binding 

DRYING  STOCK  FISH       ....  ,,235 
THE  FJELD  LAPPERJ  OF  THE  NO-MAN'S-LAND 

THAT  DIVIDES  NORWAY  FROM  SWEDEN     .  „       244 

THE  WHALER'S  HARPOON,  SPITZBERGEN        .  „       298 


Note.  —The  Publishers  desire  to  thank  the  Artists  for  their  kind  permission 
to  reproduce  their  pictures  in  this  hook,  and  Messrs.  Veering,  of  Christiania, 
for  their  assistance  in  obtaining  photographs. 


NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  CHARM  OF  THE  OPEN  SEA 

r  I  ^HERE  are  many  ways  of  seeing  Norway, — by  liner, 
JL  fjord  steamer,  yacht,  driving,  or  on  foot.  Perhaps  it 
is  possible  to  see  most  and  to  learn  most  by  walking,  and 
the  help  of  the  post  steamer.  But  then  time  is  needed, 
and  time  nowadays  goes  quicker  than  of  yore,  so  that 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  our  way  was  the  best,  namely, 
boarding  the  Vectis,  as  she  lay  in  midstream  on  the 
Thames,  with  bag  and  baggage. 

One  feels  like  the  snail  whose  shell  forms  a  part  of  him, 
that  in  this  great  big  ship  "  Home  "  was  always  at  hand, 
which  added  greatly  to  both  pleasure  and  comfort.  It 
was  wonderful  to  see  how  men  and  women,  who  had 
come  on  board  more  or  less  weary  and  jaded  from  too 
hard  a  London  season,  overworked  from  a  long  session 
in  Parliament  or  in  office,  revived  after  a  day  or  two 
spent  at  sea.  They  lay  drowsily  extended  in  various 
positions  of  comfort  on  their  chairs  on  the  broad  white 
after-deck,  the  happy  moment  after  lunch  ;  too  soon  to 
get  to  work  or  play,  the  tremor  of  the  great  screw 
acting  as  the  mother's  foot  on  the  cradle  rocker. 

The  deck  was  partly  in   shadow,  partly  in  sunlight, 


2  THE  CHARM  OF  THE  OPEN  SEA 

with  a  delightful  breeze  ruffling  the  surface  of  the  blue 
sea,  and  the  long  white  wake  streaming  away  to  the 
horizon.  Care  was  left  behind.  The  stress  and  hurry 
of  everyday  life,  like  the  ship's  wake,  receded  in  the  dis- 
tance. We  looked  calm  enough  now,  basking  in  the  sun 
with  no  thought  of  to-morrow,  content  to  drink  in  the 
invigorating  forces  of  air,  sea,  and  sky.  The  ship's  kittens 
gamboled  silently,  dodging  in  and  out  under  the  chairs 
of  the  sleepers ;  every  now  and  then  the  gong  throbbed 
as  the  watching  figure  in  the  bow,  standing  like  a  black 
statue,  caught  sight  of  a  ship  to  port  or  starboard. 

I  really  think  this  is  what  yachting  should  be — no 
responsibility,  no  guests  to  keep  amused,  plenty  of  nice 
people,  and  punctual  meals. 

Norway  had  been  discussed,  and  books  referred  to  and 
read,  whilst  the  ship  steadily  forged  ahead.  But  all 
passes.  The  sky  that  looked  so  blue  the  day  before  had 
slowly  become  overcast,  the  sea  too  was  distinctly  rising, 
the  frothy  wake  no  longer  stretched  straight  to  the 
horizon,  but,  like  a  wounded  snake,  coiled  and  curved 
restlessly.  The  sea,  a  deep  indigo,  rose  in  waves  capped 
with  transparent  green  and  white  feathery  crests,  with  a 
great  under  swell  rolling  in  from  the  west  like  some 
grand  bass  motif  underlying  the  music  of  the  lesser 
turmoil. 

It  was  clear  that  the  ship  was  no  longer  under  the 
protecting  shelter  of  the  Skaw, — and  the  stormy  Skagerak 
open  to  the  west  acted  as  a  highway  to  the  ocean 
swells.  Through  the  driving  mist  appeared  quite  a  fleet 
of  sturdy  Norse  double-ended  fishing  boats  with  their 
foresails  a-weather,  snugging  down  as  they  tacked  back- 
wards and  forwards  over  the  mackerel  shoal.  Each  carried 
four  long  spars  resembling  great  fishing  rods,  which  gave 
the  craft  a  spider-like  appearance, 


THE  PILOT  3 

One  small  boat  detached  itself  from  the  fleet,  evidently 
trying  to  intercept  our  ship.  She  had  a  red  cloth  down 
the  middle  of  her  white  mainsail,  the  distinguishing  mark 
of  the  Norse  pilot.  As  the  skipper  approached  he  threw 
out  enormous  fenders,  great  hairy  things,  masses  of  rope 
yarn  threaded  on  chains,  but  he  omitted  to  hoist  his  flag. 
The  officers  of  the  watch,  not  grasping  his  intention  to 
board,  did  not  give  the  word  to  slow  in  time,  and  the 
poor  pilot  went  bobbing  astern,  tossed  up  and  down  on 
the  great  sea.  Though  we  turned  astern  with  our  pro- 
pellers, some  minutes  elapsed  before  he  was  again  able  to 
overtake  the  ship.  As  he  ran  under  our  lee  all  the  wind 
went  out  of  his  sails,  and  it  was  clear  that  he  would  only 
have  time  to  scramble  up  the  ladder  that  a  running 
Lascar  hastily  threw  over,  making  it  fast  to  the  rail  of 
the  poop.  Waiting  his  time,  he  cleverly  jumped  as  his 
boat  rose  on  the  crest  of  a  wave,  and  was  on  deck  shaking 
hands  in  a  moment.  His  imperturbable,  solitary  crew 
sheered  off,  and,  after  lashing  the  helm,  proceeded  in  a 
leisurely  fashion  to  lift  in  the  heavy  fenders. 

These  pilots  are  a  fine  body  of  men,  numbering  some 
five  hundred,  who  mostly  farm,  work  in  the  forests,  or 
fish  during  the  winter.  When  the  summer  comes  on 
they  leave  their  farms  in  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Pilot  and 
the  little  Pilots  for  months  together.  It  is  the  King 
who  decrees  where  the  pilot  stations  are  to  stand.  The 
administration  lies  in  the  hands  of  three  superintendent 
pilots,  each  in  his  own  district  assisted  by  master-pilots, 
who  in  their  turn  supervise  the  ordinary  pilots. 

I  asked  one  man  what  the  fee  depended  on,  and  his 
answer  was,  that  the  tariff  was  fixed  by  law;  the  fees 
depending  chiefly  on  the  draught  and  capacity  of  the  vessel, 
and  the  season.  If  he  was  privileged  he  kept  the  fees, 
with  the  exception  of  14  per  cent,  that  went  to  the  relief 


4  THE  SHELTER  OF  THE  FJORD 

fund  for  the  old  and  invalided,  the  widows  and  children. 
"  Ah ! "  he  said,  "  we  do  not  mind  giving  the  money  to 
keep  our  poor.  You  might  not  think  it,1'  he  went  on, 
"  but  as  many  as  17,400  vessels  are  sometimes  piloted  in 
one  year,  which  brings  in  a  lot  of  money.  Anything  of 
30  tons  burden,  coming  from  or  leaving  for  ports  out- 
side Norway,  must  have  one  of  us  on  board  ;  even  fishing 
vessels,  if  they  are  over  130  tons  burden.  Yes,'1  he  said 
reflectively,  "I  suppose  the  money  we  earn  as  a  body 
must  be  some  615,000  kroner.11 

My  friend  was  a  tall  good-looking  fellow  with  clear 
blue  eyes  and  fair  hair.  He  had  been  in  America  and 
spoke  English  well,  and  whiled  away  a  most  instructive 
hour  as  the  ship  wound  in  and  out  of  the  narrow  walled- 
in  fjord  that  leads  to  Gudvangen.  I  repeat  his  conversa- 
tion here,  as  the  pilot  is  the  first  and  most  important  person 
that  welcomes  the  visitors  to  Norway. 

Higher  and  higher  rose  the  wind,  striking  the  water  in 
sharp  squalls  which  sent  the  spray  flying  from  the  crests 
of  the  waves,  till  out  of  the  hurly-burly  loomed  a  tall 
tapering  lighthouse — a  dim  ghost,  grey  at  first,  which,  as 
we  approached,  showed  up  red  and  white,  standing  high 
on  bare  rocks  with  clustering  wooden  houses  at  its  base. 
This  was  the  Faerder  Fyr,  that  throws  its  welcome  beam 
during  the  dark  days  across  the  entrance  of  the  Christiania 
Fjord.  Once  under  its  lee  the  swell  subsides,  and  gradu- 
ally dies  away  as  the  ship  steams  steadily  northward, 
passing  hundreds  of  rocky  islands. 

The  squalls  dash  down  the  inlets  as  we  go  by,  ruffling 
the  inky  water,  which  breaks  into  a  mass  of  fierce  little 
white  horses.  Through  the  mist  one  can  just  make  out 
the  higher  land  of  Telemarken,  a  country  of  rocky  slopes, 
and  the  beginning  of  the  great  forests  of  conifers  which 
clothe  the  banks  that  rise  to  a  moderate  height  on  either 


GOGSTAD  AND  THE  VIKING  SHIP  5 

side  of  the  fjord.  After  the  rough  weather  it  was  most 
pleasant  to  glide  over  the  still  water,  entering  into  this 
land  of  pine-clad  ridges,  intersected  in  all  directions  by 
valleys,  lakes,  and  torrents. 

The  whole  region  is  historic,  easily  populated  in  imagina- 
tion with  our  old  Norse  ancestors,  plundering  seafaring 
pirates  that  they  were,  who,  coming  as  they  did  with  fire 
and  sword,  sowed  the  leaven  of  their  freebooting  love  of 
adventure  and  danger  in  the  blood  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 

"  Bautasteinar" — the  stones  carved  with  runes  telling  the 
names  and  parentage  of  the  old  Vikings — stand  here  and 
there.  At  Gogstad,  near  Sandefjord,  an  old  chief  was 
found  buried  in  his  war  galley,  with  all  his  arms,  posses- 
sions, and  treasures.  As  late  as  1880  a  large  barrow, 
called  Kongshaugen  (the  king's  mound),  was  opened  by 
Mr.  Nicolaysen,  discovering  a  ship  of  the  ninth  century, 
built  of  oak  70  feet  long,  with  the  mast,  oars,  rudder,  and 
even  some  of  the  shields  still  hanging  on  the  upper 
strake. 

On  the  opposite  shore  the  old  town  of  Halden,  that  in 
days  gone  by  so  bravely  withstood  the  Swedes,  and  earned 
for  itself  the  name  of  Fredrikshald,  comes  into  distant 
view,  and  is  soon  passed.  It  was  regarded  as  a  strong 
fortress,  and  the  key  to  Norway.  To-day  Fredrikshald 
is  the  centre  of  the  timber  traffic,  where  some  millions 
of  logs  are  collected  for  export  every  year. 

Every  port  in  England  knows  the  hog-backed  strained 
old  Norwegian  timber  vessel,  with  deck-load  piled  level 
with  the  rail,  masts  sloping  all  ways  at  once.  The  green 
windmill  everlastingly  at  work  trying  to  pump  out  the 
water  that  is  always  running  in  through  the  yawning 
seams.  The  Alf  or  the  Olaf,  we  know  it  well.  Its 
patched  old  sails,  which  always  seem  to  have  been  cut 
out  for  some  other  vessel.  The  line  of  its  sheer  dragged 


6  ALF,  THE  TIMBER  SHIP 

out  of  shape  by  the  pull  of  the  chain  plates.  The  great 
wooden  stocked  anchors,  and  the  rusty  cables  made  of  odd 
lengths  of  chain  shackled  together.  The  white  hoops 
round  the  mast,  even  the  smell  of  the  burning  fir  from 
the  galley  fire.  Is  it  not  all  as  the  face  of  an  old  friend  ? 
Dear  old  timber  vessels,  I  have  met  them  everywhere, 
tumbling  over  the  fierce  channel  rollers  as  they  stagger 
under  lower  topsails  trying  to  work  off  a  lee  shore  with 
solid  green  water  swirling  along  the  deck-load,  and  storm 
staysails  glistening  in  the  spray.  Or  perhaps  in  an  oily 
calm,  where  the  great  empty  hull  towers  out  of  the 
dimpled  waters  high  as  a  church,  every  stitch  of  canvas 
slatting  and  shivering  as  the  creaking  yards  saw  from 
right  to  left.  I  have  met  them  being  towed  towards  port 
waterlogged  with  a  bad  list,  and  alas !  I  have  also  seen 
them  floating  bottom  up,  the  curling  surges  setting  their 
white  teeth  at  the  drifting  timber  as  though  they  would 
devour  everything. 

Our  ship  steams  steadily  on,  and  it  would  seem  as 
though  there  is  no  end  to  the  labyrinth  of  ice-worn  rocky 
islets.  One  channel  among  them  leads  up  in  the  direction 
of  Tonsberg,  the  oldest  seaport  in  the  country.  Only  a 
narrow  neck  of  land  separates  us  from  the  long  fjord  on 
which  this  busy  whaling  port  stands.  It  would  be  in- 
teresting to  walk  over  the  ridge  and  drop  down  on  the 
Notero  and  Tjemo  where  the  sailors  live,  and  hear  the 
tales  of  the  ice  pack  and  the  polar  ocean,  all  crimson  with 
the  blood  of  the  struggling  rorqual,  of  flensing  and  trying 
out,  of  fogs  and  ice-blink,  of  leads  and  blocks  and  nips. 
After  the  dangers  follow  the  happy  return  of  the  deep- 
laden  whaler,  her  spars  and  rigging  black  with  soot,  and 
her  hull  greasy  from  stem  to  stern  with  the  fat  of  the 
slaughtered  cretacean.  Tonsberg  goes  back  to  the  time  of 
the  Vikings,  and  is  famous  for  its  hardy  seafarers. 


DRAMMEN  7 

Now  we  are  coming  up  to  the  Isle  of  Basto,  with  its 
fixed  light.  Beyond  opens  the  broad  bight  which  forks 
into  Sandesogns  Fjord,  and  Dramraen  Fjord.  Pale  blue 
hills  fade  one  behind  the  other  into  the  distant  clouds, 
and  the  nearer  shores  slope  upward,  covered  with  thick 
forests  of  firs  which  seem  to  stretch  for  miles.  At  first 
sight  the  light  yellow  water-mark,  which  outlines  every 
little  cape  and  inlet,  seems  to  suggest  a  sandy  soil,  but  as 
we  steam  nearer  we  can  make  out  through  our  glasses  that 
the  gently  rounded  surface  is  all  of  solid  rock,  no  doubt 
worn  quite  smooth  by  the  ice  ages  ago ;  even  the  fir  trees 
are  all  growing  on  smooth  stone,  though  the  colour  where 
the  water  no  longer  washes  is  darker  and  more  grey. 
Little  wooden  houses  nestle,  here  and  there,  among  the 
trees,  with  sometimes  a  patch  of  bright  green  meadow. 

Drammen  is  a  great  place  for  timber  and  pitch.  Even 
down  at  the  mouth  of  the  fjord  the  brigs  and  barques  are 
lying,  taking  in  their  newly  sawn  freights.  There  are 
places  where  the  steamers  moor  right  alongside  the  rocks. 
At  first  it  was  impossible  to  make  out  of  what  the  cargo 
consisted  that  came  sliding  down  a  switchback  from 
above,  appearing  and  reappearing  till  stopped  by  two 
men,  and  guided  into  the  hold.  On  nearing  the  spot  the 
sun's  rays  caught  a  block  on  its  swift  course  downwards, 
turning  the  lump  of  ice  into  a  great  sparkling  jewel.  As 
we  passed  close  in  to  the  shore,  men,  women,  and  children 
came  out  and  waved  table-cloths,  flags,  and  kerchiefs, 
greeting  the  great  ship  that  seemed  to  take  up  all  the 
width  of  the  fjord. 

Pine  trees  are  over  everything,  far  and  near,  and  along 
the  banks  are  the  country  houses  of  the  residents  of 
Christiania.  with  flat  roofs,  flagstaffs,  and  the  gay  free 
flag  of  Norway  fluttering  in  the  summer  breeze.  Green 
sloping  lawns,  jetties  with  skiffs  moored  alongside,  and 


8  OSCARSBORG 

bathing  boxes,  form  ideal  surroundings  during  the  long 
light  days. 

As  we  near  Christiania  we  come  to  large  stacks  of 
timber,  piled  high  on  the  edge  of  the  fjord,  in  all  stages 
from  whole  trees  to  firewood.  Close  by  on  the  left  is  a 
great  target  for  artillery  practice.  The  fort  itself, 
"  Oscarsborg,"  holds  a  strong  position,  terraced  with  green 
sward  from  which  grin  the  muzzles  of  quick-firing  guns, 
trained  down  the  narrow  reach. 

Almost  in  line  with  the  fort  is  Drobak,  which  calls 
itself  a  watering-place,  a  mass  of  what  looks  like  dolls 
houses,  with  white  poles  everywhere.  The  houses  of  the 
chalet  type  are  painted  red,  pale  blue,  green,  and  yellow, 
a  little  rustic  church  with  red  roof  and  white  cross  stands 
in  their  midst,  a  brilliant  spot  of  colour  on  the  hillside. 
Then  come  the  cement  works  of  Slemmestad,  and  farther 
on  the  island  of  Steilene,  on  which  are  large  tanks  of 
petroleum,  with  steamers  lying  alongside  the  rock.  The 
formation  of  this  island  is  evidently  due  to  some  great 
upheaval  that  must  have  taken  place,  as  the  strata,  once 
horizontal,  now  stands  on  its  end  in  perpendicular  lines  of 
deposit. 

From  the  moment  we  had  passed  the  fort  the  fjord 
had  been  expanding,  the  porphyry  ranges  of  Kolsaas, 
Skougumsaas,  and  the  Vardekolle  lay  faint  and  blue  in 
the  distance,  and  as  we  passed  the  promontory  of 
Naesodtangen  Christiania  came  into  view,  with  a  fore- 
ground of  many  islands  dominated  by  the  old  fortress  of 
Akershus. 

Christiania  lacks  the  grand  setting  of  Bergen  and  the 
beautiful  colour  of  the  old  houses,  but  as  a  capital  has 
an  undoubtedly  healthy  look,  and  a  sweet  clean  smell 
comes  off  from  the  pine-clad  hills.  I  should  say  the  note 
of  Christiania,  as  is  that  of  Utrecht,  is  one  of  superior 


CARL-JOHANS  GADE  9 

satisfaction.  It  has  discrete  verdant  parks,  large  comfort- 
able houses  built  of  very  superior  yellow  bricks,  and  public 
buildings  built  of  granite,  syenite,  and  Labrador  stone. 
The  palace  stands  in  an  unimpeachable  position  on  a 
height  at  the  west  end  of  the  town,  with  a  grand  view 
over  the  fiord,  but  has  no  pretensions  whatever  to 
architectural  beauty.  It  is  a  great  block  with  a  classical 
portico,  and  that  is  all. 

Being  lovers  of  all  craft  that  sail  upon  the  sea,  our 
footsteps  naturally  took  the  direction  of  the  sheds  where 
repose  the  remains  of  the  Vikings'  ships,  but  lingered 
in  Carl-Johans  Gade,  where  the  band  was  playing 
Rossini's  fine  overture,  "  Semiramide."  The  lads  and 
the  lasses  just  out  from  school  and  college,  carrying 
their  books,  walked  leisurely  up  and  down  under  the  cool 
shades  of  the  trees,  talking  in  little  groups  and  listening 
to  the  music.  I  cannot  say  I  thought  the  girls  pretty 
or  well  dressed,  but  that  might  be  due  to  the  school-girl 
stage,  which  has  lost  the  charm  of  babyhood  and  not  yet 
attained  to  the  grace  of  womanhood ;  the  youths,  on  the 
contrary,  looked  a  well-set-up  race,  fair  hair  predominating. 

Continuing  our  way  to  the  court  at  the  back  of  the 
central  building  of  the  University,  we  came  to  the  two 
wooden  sheds  containing  the  ships.  In  the  Aseberg 
skibet,  the  body  of  a  queen  was  buried.  It  seems  to 
have  been  a  royal  yacht  better  suited  for  sheltered 
waters  than  the  open  sea.  Long  and  sharp  with  very 
little  freeboard,  but  with  lofty  stem  and  stern  all  covered 
with  intricate  carving,  it  is  a  very  handsome  craft.  To 
see  the  typical  war  galley  of  the  Vikings  one  must  visit 
the  ship  which  was  dug  from  the  mound  at  Gogstad. 

It  is  eleven  hundred  years  since  this  old  vessel  was 
built,  and  one  cannot  help  thinking  how  little  the  art  of 
shipbuilding  has  advanced  since  that  distant  day.  Clean 


io  THE  VIKING  SHIP 

and  sharp  both  fore  and  aft,  yet  with  a  long  flat  floor, 
this  stout  craft,  one  would  say  at  once,  would  be  able 
to  carry  her  canvas  well,  and  would  also  sail  close  to  the 
wind.  Whilst  going  free  or  running  she  must  have  been 
very  fast.  Clinch-built  of  oak,  with  seventeen  cut 
frames  (all  grown  knees),  she  was  doubtless  very  strong ; 
though,  strangely  enough,  the  frames  were  not  bolted  to 
the  keel,  but  only  bound  down  to  the  planking  with 
soft  roots. 

A  great  feature  is  the  mast-step,  which  is  cut  in  a 
large  block  tapering  towards  bow  and  stern,  and  standing 
on  a  stout  keelson.  There  was  a  long  slot  cut  fore  and 
aft  in  a  block  of  oak,  shaped  like  a  fish  tail,  and  fastened 
to  the  beams,  so  that  the  mast  might  be  easily  lowered. 
Even  to  this  day  the  timber  round  the  mast  is  still  called 
mastefisk  in  Norse  vessels.  Another  term  which  is  still 
in  use,  and  which  dates  back  to  the  Viking  age,  is  starboard 
(the  right-hand  side  of  the  ship).  For  the  rudder  a  great 
fan-shaped  plank  was  pivoted  on  a  bolt  projecting  from  the 
starboard  quarter  of  the  ship,  and  as  the  helmsman  had  his 
post  by  the  tiller  which  ran  athwart  ship,  this  side  was 
given  the  name  of  steerboard. 

The  third  strakes  from  the  top  are  pierced  for  sixteen 
oars  aside,  and  are  rather  thicker  than  the  others.  The 
openings  are  round  like  the  looms  of  the  oars,  but  small 
slits  have  been  cut  out  sloping  aft  and  upward,  so  that 
the  blade  might  be  pushed  through  the  port  from  inside. 
The  oars  seemed  very  short  for  so  large  a  vessel,  and 
were  of  spruce,  their  shape  just  like  those  of  a  man-o'-war 
cutter  of  the  present  day. 

A  row  of  shields  hung  outside  the  top  strake  over- 
lapping each  other,  and  painted  alternately  yellow  and 
black.  These  covered  the  ports  when  in  position,  so  I 
suppose  they  were  raised  higher  so  as  to  protect  the  heads 


VIKING    SHIP    FOUND   AT   GAGSTAD    NEAR   SOURDE    KJORI) 


BEDS    FOUND    IN   THE   VIKING'S   SHIP 


GEAR  AND  THE  SEPULCHRAL  CHAMBER     n 

of  the  rowers  when  the  ship  was  under  oars.  A  pair 
of  sheers  like  the  boom-crutch  of  a  modern  yacht,  but 
carved  into  horses'  heads  at  the  upper  end,  carried  the 
ridge-pole  of  the  awning,  or  tjeld,  which  ran  nearly  the 
whole  length  of  the  ship.  Some  pieces  of  homespun  were 
found,  which  were  no  doubt  remains  of  the  awning. 

The  rudder,  by  the  way,  hung  down  considerably  below 
the  keel,  but  it  could  be  triced  up  by  a  small  line  when 
the  water  was  shallow  ;  the  draught  of  the  ship  was  about 
four  feet,  and  the  freeboard  three  feet  amidships.  But 
both  bow  and  stern  rose  much  higher,  finishing  no  doubt 
with  carved  dragons.  This  part  of  the  ship  stuck  up  out 
of  the  mound  of  potter's  clay  in  which  she  was  buried, 
and  has  therefore  perished. 

There  are  no  signs  of  any  chafe  or  wear  on  any  of  the 
gear.  The  oar  ports  are  as  sharp  and  clean-cut  as  if 
made  yesterday.  The  lower  edge  of  the  keel  and  stem 
is  quite  square  and  unworn.  I  fancy,  therefore,  that  the 
vessel  may  have  been  built  only  just  before  the  old  Viking 
died.  She  is  caulked  with  a  three-thread  yarn,  spun  from 
cow's  hair,  so  she  must  have  been  meant  to  float,  and 
clearly  was  not  put  together  on  the  spot  where  she  was 
found  only  to  serve  as  a  splendid  coffin. 

In  great  contrast  to  the  rest  is  the  sepulchral  chamber, 
which  was  evidently  roughly  built  of  huge  balks  of  timber, 
and  covered  over  with  layers  of  birch-bark.  Inside  was 
the  chief  himself,  with  no  doubt  all  his  weapons  and 
treasure,  but  years  ago  the  barrow  was  dug  into  and  a 
shaft  driven  right  through  the  old  ship's  side.  The 
robbers  left  everything  in  confusion,  and  only  a  few 
scanty  remains  of  peacock's  feathers,  and  gold  tissue  on 
dark  woollen  stuff,  ornaments  of  gilt,  bronze,  and  lead, 
were  found,  together  with  the  bones  of  a  tall  and  powerful 
old  man. 


12  OLD  BURIALS 

The  sagas  tell  of  several  such  burials,  and  we  may,  in 
fancy,  bring  back  the  scene  when  the  new  ship  was 
hauled  up  the  shore  by  her  crew  of  grim,  fair-haired 
fighting  men.  They  sang  as  they  pulled,  and  told  of  the 
battles  they  had  won,  and  the  distant  lands  which  had 
been  harried  and  ravaged,  with  fire  and  sword,  under  the 
leader  who  now  lay  so  calm  and  still  on  the  bier,  dressed 
in  his  richest  clothes.  Hel  shoes  shod  his  feet,  weapons 
lay  by  his  side,  and  all  his  gear  was  gathered  round  him, 
— everything  belonging  to  the  ship,  the  floor  boards,  the 
copper  kettle,  plates,  spades,  and  bailers,  together  with 
three  smaller  boats  complete,  with  rudders,  oars,  and 
spars.  It  was  fitting  that  the  great  man  should  go  to 
Odin  in  proper  state.  Therefore  all  his  horses  and 
hounds  were  killed  and  buried  in  the  clay  outside  the 
ship.  Then  the  whole  was  covered  up,  and  a  great 
mound  raised  over  the  spot. 

In  the  song  of  Sigurd,  the  hero  thus  speaks  his  last 
words,  "Only  one  boon.  Let  a  wide  mound  be  raised 
on  the  plain,  roomy  for  all  who  die  with  Sigurd. 
Surround  the  mound  with  tents  and  shields,  with  foreign 
linen  finely  painted,  and  with  thralls.  Burn  the 
Hunnish  one  at  my  one  side.  Burn  at  the  other  side  of 
the  Hunnish  one  my  servants,  with  good  necklaces,  two 
at  his  head,  and  two  hawks,  then  all  is  equally  shared. 
Let  there  yet  lie  between  us  a  ring-wound  weapon,  a 
sharp-edged  iron,  as  before  was  laid  when  we  both 
stepped  into  one  bed  and  were  called  husband  and  wife. 
The  shining  hall  door  ring  ornamented  will  not  then 
strike  him  on  the  heel.  If  my  retinue  follow  hence,  then 
our  journey  will  not  be  poor.  For  there  follow  five 
bond-maids,  eight  servants  of  good  kin,  my  nurse,  and 
the  inheritance  which  Bondi  gave  to  his  child.  Much 
have  I  told,  more  would  I  tell,  if  fate  gave  more  time  for 


FUNERAL  RITES  13 

speaking.  My  voice  decreases,  my  wounds  swell,  I  told 
only  truth,  now  I  will  cease." 

In  those  days  there  was  no  mawkish  sentiment  as  to 
the  value  of  human  life.  The  custom  was  to  redden 
the  mound  with  blood,  and  this  was  done  in  royal  fashion. 

Here  is  another  description  of  the  end  of  an  old 
Norse  chief.  "  Haki  received  such  severe  wounds  that 
he  saw  that  his  days  would  not  be  long.  He  then  had  a 
skeid  which  he  owned  loaded  with  dead  men  and  weapons ; 
he  had  it  launched  on  the  sea,  and  the  rudder  adjusted 
and  the  sea  sail  hoisted.  He  had  tarred  wood  kindled, 
and  a  pyre  made  on  the  ship ;  the  wind  blew  towards  the 
sea*  Haki  was  almost  dead  when  he  was  laid  on  the 
pyre,  then  the  burning  ship  sailed  out  to  sea.  This  was 
very  famous  for  a  long  time  after."  (Ynglinga  Saga.) 

The  eddas  and  sagas  abound  with  descriptions  of 
funeral  rites  and  burials,  the  accuracy  of  which  is  most 
fully  vindicated  by  the  finds.  For  example :  "  The  first 
age  is  called  the  age  of  burning,  then  it  was  that  all 
dead  men  were  burned  and  bautastones  raised  over  them. 
Then  the  mound  age  began,  when  all  powerful  men  were 
laid  in  mounds  and  all  common  people  buried  in  the 
ground."  (St.  Olafs  Saga.} 

But  the  mounds  were  dread  places  to  the  living, 
especially  at  night  where  flames  were  seen  to  issue  and 
the  ghost  walked.  When  the  burning  did  not  take  place, 
the  warrior  was  buried  with  his  weapons  and  entire 
equipment.  Sometimes  he  slept  with  his  sword  under 
his  head.  Angantyr's  shoulders  rested  upon  the  famous 
sword  Tryfing,  and  Arngrim's  sons  were  buried  there  in 
that  manner.  Angantyr,  however,  had  not  counted  on 
his  Amazon  daughter  Hervor  wanting  the  sword.  A 
short  time  after  his  death  she  left  by  herself  in  a  man's 
dress  with  weapons,  and  joined  the  Vikings,  and  was  with 


14  HERVOR  ROUSES  ANGANTYR 

them  for  a  while,  and  called  Hervard.  A  little  after  the 
chief  of  the  Vikings  died,  and  Hervard  got  the  command 
of  them,  and  they  came  to  Samsey.  Hervard  went  on 
land,  but  none  of  her  men  would  follow,  for  they  said  it 
would  not  do  for  any  man  to  stay  out  there  at  night. 
Walking  on,  Hervard  met  a  herd-boy,  and  asked  him 
about  news.  He  said :  "  Dost  thou  not  know  the  island  ? 
Come  home  with  me,  for  it  will  not  do  for  any  man  to 
stay  out  here  after  sunset;  I  am  going  home  at  once.11 
Hervard  replied :  "  Tell  me,  where  are  the  mounds  of 
Hjorvard?"  The  boy  said:  "Thou  art  unwise,  as 
thou  wantest  to  search  for  that  at  night  which  few  dare 
search  for  at  midday.  Burning  fires  play  on  the  mounds 
after  sunset.1'  Hervard,  as  is  the  way  of  women,  persisted, 
and  as  the  sun  set  hollow  noises  were  heard  in  the  island, 
and  the  mound  fires  appeared.  The  shepherd  took  to  his 
heels,  and  ran  into  the  forest  as  fast  as  he  could,  and 
never  looked  back. 

As  she  came  to  the  mound  she  sang — 

"  Awake,  Angantyr ! 
Hervor  thee  rouses, 
The  only  daughter 
Of  thee  and  Svafa  ; 
Yield  to  me  from  the  mound 
The  sharp  sword 
Which  the  Dvergar 
For  Svafrlami  forged." 

She  wakes  them  all — Hjorvard  and  Hervard,  Hrani  and 
Angantyr,  and  reviles  them,  calling  those  who  lie  beneath 
the  tree  roots  clad  in  helmet  and  mail  with  sharp  sword 
and  reddened  spear — 

"  Sons  of  Arngrim, 
Much  harm  doing ; 
Much  have  you 
The  mound  increased.  .  .  ," 


ANGANTYR  THREATENS  15 

Angantyr  rises  and  tries  to  put  her  off,  and  even  stoops 
to  a  lie  in  hopes  of  keeping  his  beloved  sword,  saying 
that  neither  father  buried  him,  nor  other  kinsmen ;  but 
the  two  who  lived  kept  Tryfing.  He  tries  to  frighten 
her  by  threats  of  the  mound  opening  and  belching  flame. 
He  sings — 

"Ajar  is  the  gate  of  Hel, 
The  mounds  are  opening ; 
All  the  island  coast 
Looks  as  if  on  fire." 

But  Hervor  is  dauntless,  telling  her  dead  father  that 
he  cannot  light  any  flame  that  will  make  her  quail. 
Angantyr  then  threatens  the  mail-clad  maiden,  telling 
of  all  the  awful  things  that  are  in  store  for  her  in  the 
future.  That  she  shall  bear  a  son  who  will  be  the 
mightiest  under  the  tent  of  the  sun.  He  will  wield 
the  magic  sword,  and  this  Tryfing  will — 

"  If  thou  canst  believe  it, 
All  thy  kin,  maiden,  destroy." 

Then  Hervor  threatens  the  dead  champions  that  she 
will  weave  a  spell  that  shall  bind  their  ghosts  rotting 
in  the  mound,  unless  the  sword,  the  slayer  of  Hjalmar, 
the  hater  of  mail-coats,  is  yielded  to  her  out  of  the 
mound. 

The  dead  chief,  after  trying  more  persuasion,  at  last 
tells  her  that  the  slayer  of  Hjalmar  lies  under  his 
shoulders,  all  wrapped  in  fire,  and  that  there  is  no  maiden 
who  dares  take  this  sword  in  her  hand  ;  but  his  daughter 
at  once  offers  to  hold  the  sharp  maekir,  saying  that  she 
does  not  fear  the  burning  fire,  for  the  flames  grow  less 
when  she  looks  at  them.  And  Angantyr,  finding  that  there 
is  no  way  to  stay  the  impetuous  lady,  who  rushes  at  the  fire 


16          TRYFING  IS  FLUNG  TO  HERVOR 

with  open  eyes,  at  last  flings  out  the  sword  into  the  hands 
of  Hervor.  Then  she  sings — 

"Thou  didst  well, 
Kinsman  of  Vikings, 
When  thou  gavest  me 
The  sword  from  the  mound ; 
I  think,  King  ! 
I  have  a  better  gift 
Than  if  I  got 
The  whole  of  Norway." 

The  dead  chief  calls  his  last  warning,  that  the  Tryfing 
will  destroy  all  her  kin,  and  tells  his  exulting  child  to  keep 
hidden  the  slayer  of  Hjalmar — 

"Touch  thou  not  its  edges, 
Poison  is  in  both, — 
This  doomer  of  men  is  worse  than  disease." 

The  mound  closes.  Then  Hervor  left  the  dreadful 
plain  of  Munarvag,  and  walked  down  to  the  seashore, 
but  when  the  day  dawned  she  saw  that  her  ships  had 
sailed  away, — the  Vikings  had  been  afraid  of  the  thunder- 
ings  and  flames.  (Hervarar  Saga.) 


CHAPTER   II 
CHRISTIANIA— ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  ART 

FROM  the  Viking's  ship  we  passed  through  the 
University  Garden  to  the  Museum  of  Art,  built 
in  the  Italian  Renaissance  style,  and  presented  to  the 
town  by  the  Christiania  Savings  Bank.  The  hours  for 
opening  public  buildings  in  Norway  do  not  coincide 
with  our  English  ideas  of  lunch  at  one.  Twice  we  had 
thumped  on  the  closed  doors  in  vain,  once  at  ten  and 
the  second  time  a  little  after  three.  Cook's  magic  key 
had  opened  the  door  for  the  bulk  of  the  passengers,  but 
for  a  serious  consideration  of  the  various  works  of  art 
the  rushing-through  process  is  quite  inadequate;  so  we 
waited  about  the  gardens  till  the  clock  struck  twelve,  and 
decorously  entered  the  open  portals  of  this  infant  school 
in  the  world  of  art. 

Norway's  school  of  painting  is  the  youngest  in  Europe. 
It  belongs  to  the  nineteenth  century,  and  blossomed  at  a 
time  when  a  new  view  of  nature  was  setting  in.  Ruysdael 
and  Everdingen,  the  two  old  Dutch  landscape  painters 
whose  works  are  found  in  the  Danish  galleries,  opened 
the  eyes  of  Johan  Christian  Dahl  to  the  characteristic 
and — in  an  artistic  sense — unutilised  natural  beauty  of 
his  native  land.  Painting  did  not  burst  into  Norway  as 
it  did  into  Holland  between  1590  and  1635.  It  has 
never  had  its  Rembrandt  and  Jan  Steen,  Vermeer  or 
De  Hooch,  Gerard  Dou,  Ostade,  Potter  or  Cuyp.  At 


i8  EARLY  PAINTERS 

that  time  good  art  came,  but  it  is  a  puzzle  to  know  why, 
and  also  why  by  1700  it  was  practically  all  over.  The 
year  1666  saw  the  birth  of  Magnus  Elisen  Berg  in  Norway, 
who  stood  far  and  above  his  contemporaries,  but  more 
as  a  sculptor  than  a  painter,  and  more  as  a  carver  in 
ivory  than  either.  In  the  antechamber  of  the  princess 
in  the  royal  castle  of  Rosenberg  is  a  recess  full  of  his 
wonderful  work;  one,  an  ivory  vase,  represents  the 
element  water  in  Rococo  style,  swans  on  a  floral  cup  of 
water  form  the  knob  to  the  cover.  Female  figures,  with 
uplifted  arms,  make  the  handles,  figures  support  the  body 
of  the  cup,  and  shells  form  the  base.  I  wish  at  the  time 
I  had  looked  more  closely  at  the  portrait  of  this  peasant- 
born  genius,  which  hangs  up  high  on  the  right  in  the 
same  room.  We  have  examples  of  his  work  in  the 
royal  collections  in  England,  and  some  are  in  Vienna. 
But  none  could  I  find  in  this  gallery,  which,  of  course, 
may  be  an  oversight  on  my  part. 

It  was  only  after  the  dissolution  of  the  union  with 
Denmark  that  the  nation  awoke  to  consciousness,  and 
asserted  its  independence  in  the  domain  of  art.  In  less 
than  twenty  years  a  little  flock  of  painters  had  arisen, 
half  gods  in  comparison  with  the  earlier  Dutch  masters; 
but  half  gods  were  better  than  no  gods  at  all.  Popular 
opinion  voted  them  a  true  Norwegian  school.  I  differ. 
There  was  no  school  for  artists  in  Norway.  Nearly  if  not 
all  were  obliged  to  go  for  their  training  to  the  art  academy 
in  Copenhagen,  and  from  there  drifted  to  Diisseldorf, 
Munich,  and  Paris.  Dahl  is  the  bell-wether  of  the  flock. 
Born  in  Bergen  in  1788,  he  died  a  professor  in  the  Dresden 
Academy  in  1857.  He  has  often  been  called  the  creator 
of  the  romantic  landscape.  But  in  spite  of  his  close 
relations  with  the  group  of  Dresden  romanticists,  more 
siepecally  with  the  pronounced  romantic  landscape 


DAHL,  FEARNLEY,  BAADE,  AND  FRICH    19 

painter  Friedrichs,  the  dreamy  view  of  life  and  visionary 
conception  of  art  of  the  German  romanticism  was  foreign 
to  his  lively  and  positive  temperament.  In  reality  he 
was  a  wide-awake  realist,  and  there  is  more  true  genius 
in  the  stroke  of  his  brush  than  in  that  of  any  other 
Norwegian  artist  of  his  period.  Although  he  lived  at 
a  distance  from  his  native  land,  he  never  ceased  to 
glorify  its  picturesque  beauty,  and  returned,  again 
and  again,  to  Norway  to  make  studies  and  gather 
impressions. 

To  this  period  belong  Fearnley,  a  painter  of  decoratively 
idealistic  landscapes ;  Knud  Baade ;  J.  C.  G.  Frich, 
some  of  whose  best  works,  of  beautiful  parts  of 
Norway,  decorate  the  palace  of  Oscarshal;  and  Johan 
Gorbitz,  who  displayed  considerable  talent  as  a  portrait 
painter. 

The  next  generation,  who  appeared  in  the  forties,  con- 
tinued their  labours  on  German  soil,  where  the  historical 
genre  picture  and  representations  of  national  life  became 
the  field  par  excellence  of  the  Diisseldorf  painters' 
endeavours.  The  school  had  not  been  in  existence  many 
years  before  a  heavy  atmosphere  weighed  upon  its  pro- 
ductions. It  shrunk  into  a  narrow-minded  reaction 
against  the  high-flying,  idealistic  endeavours  in  the  art 
of  the  earlier  generations.  At  the  same  time,  it  degener- 
ated into  a  colouring  that  was  chiefly  a  rechauffe  of  old- 
gallery  art,  quite  as  insipid  in  its  lukewarm  sweetness  as 
in  its  motley  magnificence. 

Constable's  talented  productions  in  modern  landscape 
were  unknown  to  the  artistic  development  of  Norway. 
No  reflection  of  the  brilliant  colouring  and  imaginative 
glow  that  romance,  at  this  time,  was  throwing  over  French 
art  was  visible.  The  French  revolution  of  1848  helped 
matters  in  so  much  that  it  drove  the  flock  of  Norwegian- 


20  ADOLF  TIDEMAND 

artists  home.  The  most  prominent  personality  among 
the  painters,  who  were  under  the  influence  of  the 
Dusseldorf  school,  is  Adolf  Tidemand  (1814-1876),  not 
so  much  on  accouut  of  his  artistic  talent  as  because  he 
was  the  first  Norwegian  figure  painter  worthy  of  mention. 
Those  who  feel  interested  in  his  works  can  study  his  series 
of  pictures  of  Norwegian  peasant  life  that  hang  round  the 
dining-hall  in  the  palace  of  Oscarshal.  From  this  gallery 
I  have  chosen  to  reproduce  his  picture  of  the  old  man 
reading  the  Bible,  "  A  Solitary  Couple.11  It  has  an  old- 
fashioned  look  about  it,  if  it  is  permissible  to  call  any 
work  of  art  old-fashioned.  As  I  studied  it  I  felt  as 
though  I  had  opened  a  trunk  of  my  grandmother's  clothes, 
and  was  looking  at  a  dress  of  a  bygone  period, — shall  we 
say,  early  Victorian  ?  The  material  is  light,  soft  to  the 
touch,  and  a  little  faded.  The  lace  is  most  carefully 
stitched  on,  the  whole  emitting  the  faint  smell  of  a 
bygone  day.  In  this  picture  the  aged  bonder,  in  knee- 
breeches  and  large-buttoned  waistcoat,  sits  reading  a 
heavy-clasped  Bible  to  his  sweet-faced  old  wife.  The 
light  from  the  window  on  the  old  man's  white  hair  forms 
a  fine  contrast  to  the  dark-painted  panelling.  The 
interior  is  worked  up  most  minutely.  The  carved  corner 
cupboard  and  dresser,  the  looking-glass  and  table,  are  all 
painted  so  that  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  make  real 
ones  from  them.  The  old  lady  sits  listening,  her  hands 
devoutly  crossed,  dressed  in  the  national  costume.  The 
gold-embroidered  cap  and  embroidered  vest,  the  little 
saucer-shaped  gold  ornament,  all  are  recorded  most 
faithfully.  "Nice  in  feeling,  isn't  it?"  my  companion 
remarks  as  we  pass  on.  It  is  just  this  nice  feeling 
that  made  Tidemand's  art  exercise  considerable  in- 
fluence upon  Norwegian  development  in  culture;  not 
alone  in  art,  but  in  poetry  and  music  as  well,  thus  turn- 


GUDE,  CAPPELEN,  CARL  S.  HANSEN       21 

ing  the  gaze  of  strangers  upon  the  people  to  whom  he 
belonged. 

Hans  Gude,  who  frequently  collaborated  with  Tidemand, 
for  a  time  kept  up  the  traditions  of  the  Diisseldorf  school. 
Under  changing  circumstances  of  life  and  various  influences 
he  worked  his  way  out  of  its  weaknesses,  and  found  fresher 
and  more  personal  forms  of  expression.  In  Diisseldorf, 
Carlsruhe,  and  Berlin  he  was  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of 
pupils,  Scandinavian  and  German,  who  learnt  to  ap- 
preciate his  ability,  noble  disposition,  and  sincere 
amiability. 

Herman  August  Cappelen  is  the  first  to  cast  off  the 
German  yoke.  The  Sam  Bough  of  his  day,  he  painted 
the  "Dying-out  of  a  Forest,"  great  bare  rocks  with 
blasted  and  riven  fir  trees,  gnarled  stumps,  against  a  dull 
grey  sky,  a  romantic  if  fictional  piece  of  scenery.  He 
left  behind  him  a  large  collection  of  capital  open-air 
studies,  freely  and  broadly  painted  in  a  dark  and  un- 
assuming colouring,  that  had  nothing  in  common  with 
the  old  school. 

In  the  sixties,  Diisseldorf  ceased  to  be  the  art  centre 
of  Norwegian  painters.  It  had  played  itself  out.  Carl 
Sundt  Hansen,  for  a  short  period  of  his  career,  worked 
on  German  soil,  after  which  he  went  to  Paris.  He  is  the 
only  worthy  follower  of  Tidemand  as  a  painter  of  peasant 
life ;  but  the  life  he  portrays  is  melancholy  to  a  degree. 
Betrayed  maidens,  or  young  couples  standing  by  the 
coffin  of  their  child,  are  not  inspiriting  to  hang  on  a  wall. 
Life  is  sad  enough  in  itself  without  our  being  reminded 
of  some  of  its  bitterest  pangs. 

Passing  these  quickly  by,  we  stopped  before  "The 
Condemned  Man's  Confession."  Not  that  this  was 
any  brighter,  but  it  seemed  to  illustrate  a  gruesome  little 
story  we  had  read  by  Bjornson.  In  the  picture  a 


22  A  GRUESOME  STORY 

minister  is  reading  to  a  manacled  prisoner,  who  sits 
listening  with  his  hand  over  his  face.  Behind  stands  an 
armed  warder,  who  looks  as  though  he  only  acted  in  this 
capacity  on  rare  occasions.  The  whole  is  worked  up 
with  the  same  minute  detail  as  the  story  of  the  village 
murder  that  must  have  taken  place  in  Bjornsons  school 
days ;  no  one  but  a  boy  could  have  seen  what  he  did.  He 
tells  how  the  inquiry  was  held  in  the  schoolroom  of  the 
parsonage,  for  there  was  no  court-house,  and  indeed  the 
school  had  to  serve  as  prison  too.  "  They  came  in  two 
boat  loads  from  Molde :  the  dean,  the  bailiff,  the 
military  escort,  and  the  condemned  man.  .  .  .  And 
then  the  silence  afterwards.  People  whispered  as 
they  moved  about  the  rooms  and  out  in  the  yard, 
whence  they  looked  down  upon  the  school-house  prison 
where  the  steady  light  burned.  Schoolmaster  Jacobsen 
was  sitting  there  now  with  his  friend ;  they  were  singing 
and  praying  together.  .  .  .  Peer's  family  came  in  the 
evening  in  a  boat,  went  up  to  see  him,  and  took  leave  of 
him.  .  .  .  The  execution  had  to  take  place  at  a  cross- 
road, and  there  was  only  one  in  the  neighbourhood, 
namely,  of  Edsvaag,  nearly  seven  miles  away  from  where 
the  murder  was  committed.  The  bailiff  headed  the 
procession,  then  came  the  soldiers,  then  the  condemned 
man,  with  the  dean  on  one  side  and  my  father  on  the 
other,  then  Jacobsen  and  my  tutor,  with  me  between 
them,  then  some  more  people,  followed  by  more 
soldiers.  .  .  .  The  sheriff  stationed  himself  directly  in 
front  of  the  place  where  some  planed  boards  were  laid 
over  the  grave.  At  one  end  of  it  stood  the  block.  .  .  . 
Peer  Hagbo  knelt  below  on  the  step  with  his  face  buried 
in  his  hands,  close  to  the  feet  of  his  spiritual  adviser.  .  .  . 
The  dean  was  of  Danish  birth.  ...  His  addresses  were 
beautiful  to  read,  but  one  couldn't  always  hear  him,  and 


AN  EXECUTION  23 

least  of  all  when  he  was  moved.  .  .  .  The  points  of  his 
tall  shirt-collar,  which  reached  to  the  middle  of  his 
ears  .  .  .  stuck  up  on  each  side  of  the  bare-cropped  head 
with  the  two  double  chins  beneath,  and  the  whole  was 
framed  between  his  shoulders,  which  by  long  practice  he 
could  raise  much  higher  than  other  men.  .  .  .  One  thing 
alone  we  all  understood  :  that  he  loved  the  pale  young 
man  whom  he  had  prepared  for  death.  The  young  man 
then  shook  hands  all  round,  and  placed  himself  by  his 
friend  Jacobsen.  The  latter  knew  what  this  meant. 
He  took  off  a  kerchief  and  bound  Peer's  eyes,  while  we 
saw  him  whisper  something  to  him,  and  receive  a 
whispered  answer.  Then  a  man  came  forward  to  bind 
Peer's  hands  behind  his  back ;  but  he  begged  to  be  left 
free,  and  his  prayer  was  granted.  Then  Jacobsen  took 
him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  forward.  At  the  place 
where  Peer  was  to  kneel  Jacobsen  stopped  short,  and 
Peer  slowly  bent  his  knees.  Jacobsen  bent  Peer's  head 
down  until  it  rested  on  the  block;  then  he  drew  back 
and  folded  his  hands.  All  this  I  saw,  and  also  that  a  tall 
man  came  and  took  hold  of  Peer's  neck,  while  a  smaller 
man  drew  forth  from  a  couple  of  folded  towels  a  shining 
axe  with  a  remarkably  broad  thin  blade.  It  was  then 
I  turned  away.  I  heard  the  captain's  horrible  'Present 
Arms ' ;  I  heard  some  one  praying  '  Our  Father.1 " 

Here  we  leave  the  story.  The  little  lad  never  forgot 
the  terrible  ending.  All  along  he  had  pondered  over  the 
words  of  the  unfortunate  girl  who  had  been  done  to  death. 
She  with  her  dying  breath  had  said,  "  They  mustn't  do 
him  any  harm."  Conceive  the  boy's  horror  when  he  heard 
the  dean  say  to  his  father  and  mother  that,  before 
receiving  the  Holy  Communion  in  prison,  Peer  had  said 
to  him  that  it  was  not  he  who  had  dragged  the  girl  to  the 
cliff  and  thrown  her  over.  If  the  dean  wished  to  know 


24          COLLET,  ENDER,  OTTO  BINDING 

who  had  done  it  he  could  tell  him.  But  the  dean  said 
"  No ;  it  was  only  with  Peer  Hagbo  that  he  had  to  do." 
Bjornson  ends  thus :  "  This  happened  more  than  fifty 
years  ago.  Since  then  (he,  adds  satirically)  Norway  has 
utterly  changed  in  every  respect.  But  this  is  not  a 
picture,  it  is  only  a  little  short  story ;  but  so  graphically 
told  that  it  can  only  have  been  copied  straight  from 
nature. 

Of  the  painters  that  studied  in  Munich,  the  older 
generation  was  far  less  important  and  interesting  than 
the  succeeding  one,  which  afterwards  came  under  the 
influence  of  the  French  open-air  painting,  though  we  have 
a  good  representative  in  Frederik  Collet.  Born  in  1839,  he 
began  as  a  pupil  of  Gude's,  but  afterwards  studied  in 
Munich,  and  later  on  was  greatly  influenced  by  the  French 
open-air  tendency.  At  first  he  sought  his  subjects  in  the 
south  country  fjord  scenery,  but  afterwards  made  the 
east  country  winter,  with  its  masses  of  snow  and  half- 
frozen  rivers,  his  special  study.  His  picture  in  this 
gallery  is  perhaps  a  trifle  uninteresting,  but  the  whole  is 
unconventional  and  real — the  turbid  stream  forcing  its  way 
through  the  snow-covered  flat,  on  which  are  nicely  drawn 
trees,  with  bare  branches  waving  against  the  wintry  sky. 

The  younger  generation  are,  I  am  convinced,  well 
represented  by  the  painters  Axel  Ender  and  Otto  Sinding. 
Axel  Ender's  picture  "The  Resurrection  Morn11  gives 
distinction  to  the  little  church  at  Molde.  It  illuminates 
the  interior  in  a  wonderful  degree  by  its  faint  chaste 
colouring.  The  surprise  on  the  listening  women's  faces  is 
well  rendered,  and  the  angel's  figure  is  easily  poised  on  the 
tomb. 

Otto  Sinding  is  altogether  stronger.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  what  influence  was  exerted  to  make 
these  great  men  what  they  are.  The  versatile  Otto  was 


THREE  BROTHERS,  HEYERDAHL,  KROHG     25 

born  in  1842,  and  is  a  brother  of  the  sculptor  Stephen 
Sinding,  and  of  Christian  Sinding  the  composer,  each  a 
master  of  his  art.  Otto  Sinding  made  his  debut  in 
literature  before  he  began  his  artistic  studies,  and  tried  to 
find  satisfaction  in  a  variety  of  tasks.  He  divided  his 
great  working  powers  between  painting  and  literary  or 
scenic  interests.  He  has  painted  marine  pictures  and 
genre,  historical  scenes,  representations  of  fishing  life  on 
the  Norwegian  coast,  landscapes,  peasant  life,  and  fishing 
in  the  Lofoten  Islands.  These  latter  works,  to  my  mind, 
are  as  good  if  not  better  than  any  I  have  seen  from 
his  brush.  On  page  228  is  a  very  impressive  rendering 
of  a  fishing  village  among  the  Lofotens.  The  snow  is 
deep  over  the  cabins  and  fields  that  lie  at  the  foot  of 
great  walls  of  rock,  whose  peaks  jut  into  the  mists.  At 
the  head  of  the  fjord  are  the  square-sailed  cod  boats. 
Hard  frost  is  wonderfully  suggested ;  the  smoke  rises 
straight  into  the  still  air.  It  is  quite  a  typical  scene  in 
Norway,  treated  in  a  masterly  fashion. 

On  page  17,  "  The  Two  Sisters,"  by  Hans  Heyerdahl, 
is  a  revelation.  He,  WerenskioJd,  Christian  Krohg,  Fritz 
Thaulow,  Gustav  Wentzel,  and  Gerhard  Munthe  are 
the  true  Norwegian  school.  All  studied  in  Munich,  and 
afterwards  in  Paris.  Their  eyes  were  trained  through 
French  art  to  open-air  painting,  but  on  their  return  to 
Norway  they  freed  themselves  from  foreign  influences, 
and  worked  with  full  consciousness  for  the  nationalising 
of  Norwegian  art.  How  well  they  have  succeeded  can  be 
traced  on  the  walls  of  this  gallery.  Hans  Heyerdahl  is  a 
colourist.  His  beautiful  picture  of  "  The  Two  Sisters  "  was 
painted  after  his  return  to  Norway,  and  is  to  my  mind 
the  most  pleasing  picture  on  the  walls.  It  is  the  ripe 
fruit  of  the  twofold  influence  of  open-air  painting  and 
realism.  The  girls  are  real  girls,  with  no  attempt  to 


26  ERIK  WERENSKIOLD 

beautify  or  smooth.  Thinking  of  nothing,  they  are 
charming  as  representatives  of  sweet  early  girlhood.  I 
have  heard  it  said  that  Heyerdahl  was  not  a  profoundly 
thoughtful  painter.  However  this  may  be,  his  talent  has 
a  sense  and  enjoyment  of  beauty,  a  love  of  delicate  form, 
and  a  marvellous  appreciation  of  colour. 

The  actual  leaders  in  the  hard  fight  that  led  in  the 
eighties  to  the '  victory  of  naturalism  are  Erik  Werens- 
kiold  and  Christian  Krohg.  Werenskiold,  as  I  have 
said  before,  studied  in  Munich  from  1875  to  1880,  but 
early  emancipated  himself  from  the  artistic  views  of 
his  teachers.  He  avoided  picture  galleries,  and  ac- 
knowledged no  other  source  of  instruction  than  the 
immediate  study  of  nature.  In  the  numerous  pictures 
exhibited  by  the  French  painters  in  Munich  in  1879 
he  realised  the  road  he  would  wish  to  follow  in  the 
future ;  and  going  to  Paris  for  three  years,  he  became 
a  thorough  convert.  In  1883  he  settled  in  Norway,  where 
he  became  the  artist  who  most  clearly  formulated  the 
programme  of  the  tendency.  His  subjects  are  chiefly 
limited  to  the  ordinary  everyday  life  in  Norway,  and 
to  portraits.  Everything  he  does  bears  the  stamp  of 
solidity,  but  in  the  solidity  charm  is  not  lacking.  When 
I  came  upon  Ibsen's  portrait  it  was  like  an  oasis  in  a 
mediocre  desert  of  canvas.  I  called  to  my  companion 
to  come.  Here  is  something  really  worth  looking  at. 
His  answer  was :  "  Well,  you  come  here  first.  I  fancy 
this  must  be  by  the  same  man."  "A  country  funeral." 
So  it  was.  A  great  deal  of  pathos  is  shown  in  its 
unforced  realism ;  the  landscape  is  as  important  a  part 
of  the  picture  as  the  figures  themselves,  and  the  colour 
and  lighting  are  as  natural  as  can  be.  The  shadow 
side  of  the  faces  catches  the  reflection  of  the  pale-blue 
sky ;  the  cast  shadows  on  the  ground,  the  grave  covered 


FRITZ  THAULOW  27 

with  the  evenly  cut  sods ;  all  are  in  keeping.  The  expres- 
sion on  the  men's  faces  is  a  perfect  study.  The  types 
are  absolutely  common-place,  just  the  people  you  first 
meet,  without  any  selection.  Werenskiold  has  aimed 
at  simple  truth,  and  it  could  not  be  better  done.  His 
"  Telemarken  Peasant  Girls,"  No.  302  in  this  gallery,  are 
also  excellent. 

In  Fritz  Thaulow  we  have  an  artist  who  seems  to 
belong  to  ourselves  as  well  as  to  Norway.  A  well-known 
figure  in  London  society,  he  was  greatly  looked  up  to 
and  beloved  by  all  who  came  into  contact  with  him. 
His  artist  friends  in  England  hold  his  memory  in  high 
esteem,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  his  death 
was  deeply  regretted  by  the  whole  fraternity.  Thaulow 
was  the  central  figure  in  the  young  generation  of  artists. 
He  studied  in  Copenhagen,  and  then  in  Carlsruhe  under 
Gude ;  but  his  three  years  in  Paris  did  more  for  him 
than  all  his  previous  training.  Enthusiastic,  handsome, 
full  of  good-humour,  highly  sensitive  to  impressions  of 
the  beautiful,  he  stands  yet  another  leader  in  the  cause 
of  naturalism.  In  his  earlier  work  he  represented  the 
clear  Norwegian  winter's  day  with  great  freshness,  but 
he  was  extraordinarily  facile.  I  do  not  think  that  of 
his  multitudinous  productions  this  gallery  has  by  any 
means  the  best. 

I  must  not  miss  out  Eyolf  Soot.  The  Norwegians 
claim  that  he  is  the  greatest  colourist  of  the  company. 
Never  mind  at  what  end  of  the  gallery  you  may  be,  his 
dramatic  "Infanticide"  calls  you.  It  might  be  con- 
sidered an  importunate  picture.  One  associates  a  cow- 
shed with  the  birth  of  our  Lord,  not  with  the  death  of 
a  new-born  infant.  My  sympathy  goes  out  to  the  poor 
young  mother,  kneeling  on  the  dirty  ground,  gazing 
into  the  future  with  terrified  eyes.  The  light  falls  in 


28          EYOLF  SOOT,  GUSTAV  WENTZEL 

gently,  and  the  cow  in  the  next  stall  is  evidently  feeding 
unconcernedly.  Soot  is  the  pointlste  of  the  brotherhood. 
His  methods  are  seen  in  the  portraits  of  Jonas  Lie  and 
his  wife.  The  iridescent  touches  lie  side  by  side ;  looked 
at  from  a  distance,  they  melt  into  one  tone. 

Gustav  Wentzel  is  the  last  that  I  have  space  to 
talk  of  in  this  chapter.  Born  in  1859,  Norway  con- 
siders him  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  this  generation. 
In  his  masterpiece  of  colouring,  "  Frokost "  (Breakfast), 
he  depicts  the  less  well-to-do  classes  in  the  capital  devour- 
ing a  meal  and  printed  matter  at  the  same  time.  The 
grouping  is  unconventional,  most  of  the  heads  are  seen 
against  a  window,  through  which  one  catches  a  glimpse 
of  a  street,  and  one  of  the  ugly  modern  Norwegian 
churches.  The  light  breeze  can  almost  be  felt  as  it 
blows  through  the  muslin  curtains.  A  little  bare-armed 
girl  has  come  for  a  helping  to  a  nondescript-looking 
person  whose  back  is  towards  us.  All  the  rest  of  the 
people  are  hard  at  work  drinking,  or  poring  over  their 
books.  The  whole  is  very  up-to-date  and  realistic. 
None  of  the  men  or  women  are  at  all  good-looking, 
but  they  are  undoubted  flesh  and  blood. 

Sculpture  was  at  a  very  low  ebb  at  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  The  world  looked  up  to  Thorvaldsen 
as  the  marvel  of  his  age,  though  truly  in  the  present 
day  it  is  difficult  to  see  anything  to  admire  in  the 
pappy,  lifeless  masonry  of  this  prolific  worker.  It  seems 
wonderful  to  think  that  when  Thorvaldsen  was  at  the 
height  of  his  fame  Lord  Elgin  was  actually  bringing  to 
the  notice  of  the  world  the  matchless  work  of  Phidias, 
and  yet  no  one  of  that  day  could  see  the  enormous  gulf 
which  separated  the  two.  Thorvaldsen's  great  hall  with 
its  faded  frescoes,  drawing  the  attention  of  the  passers-by 
to  the  honours  lavished  on  the  departed,  stands,  tarnished 


CARVED    DOOR    FROM    OLD   CHURCH    AT    HAI.LINGDAI. 


PEASANT-BORN  SCULPTORS  29 

and  out  of  fashion,  a  blot  in  the  beautiful  capital  of 
Copenhagen.  Compare  this  with  the  Parthenon,  grandly 
crowning  the  Acropolis ;  even  in  its  ruin  the  most 
perfect  monument  in  the  world. 

The  earlier  peasant-born  sculptors  in  Norway  were 
far  more  talented  as  ornament  carvers  than  as  sculptors. 
It  took  them  some  time  to  cast  off  their  wood-carving 
traditions  and  turn  from  the  ornamental,  in  which  they 
excelled,  to  the  free  representation  of  the  human  figure. 
As  their  woodwork  is  in  every  way  superior  to  their 
sculpture,  it  is  lucky  for  the  present  generation  that  the 
early  productions  of  these  old  masters  of  carving  are 
to  be  found  in  the  art  museums  at  Rosenberg,  the 
museums  of  Scandinavian  antiquities  in  Copenhagen,  in 
the  museum  at  Bergen,  and  in  the  Museum  of  Industrial 
Art  at  the  corner  of  Universitets-Gade  here.  The 
Historical  Museum  that  is  to  contain  a  wonderful 
collection  of  northern  antiquities,  including  the  two 
Viking  ships,  will  shortly  be  opened, — public  works  move 
slowly  hi  Norway.  When  finished  it  will  be  a  harbour 
of  refuge  for  the  lovely  carved  doors  of  the  old  Stave- 
kirker,  mediaeval  objects,  remains  of  the  Stone,  Bronze, 
and  Iron  Age,  and  coins. 

The  Norwegian  sculptors  of  our  century  begin  with 
Hans  Michelsen,  who  as  a  soldier  attracted  the  attention 
of  his  superiors  by  his  wonderful  wood  carving.  From 
1819  to  1826  he  received  monetary  aid  which  enabled 
him  to  study  in  Rome  under  Thorvaldsen.  One  meets 
his  work  in  Trondhjem  Cathedral,  in  the  figures  of  the 
twelve  apostles  that  he  was  commissioned  to  sculpt  by 
King  Carl  Johan. 

In  the  second  generation  we  have  Bach,  whose 
"  Jephthah's  Daughter,"  No.  396,  stands  in  the  vestibule 
in  company  of  Stephen  Sinding's  "Barbarian  Mother," 


30  MATHIAS  SKEIBROK,  STEPHEN  SINDING 

but  with  a  wide  gulf  between.  Bach,  like  Michelsen, 
Middelthun,  the  ever-hard-up  struggling  Hansen,  and 
Olaf  Olafsen  Glosimodt,  were  all  based  on  Thorvaldsen. 
See  MiddelthmVs  statue  of  "Half dan  Kjerulf,"  also  his 
statue  of  "  Schweigaard "  that  stands  in  front  of  the 
University.  Glosimodt,  again,  executed  a  number  of 
busts  of  famous  Norwegians,  and  a  rather  nice  statue  of 
the  "  Saeter  Girl,"  but  it  is  by  his  splendid  works  in  ivory, 
box- wood,  and  ornamental  wood  carving  that  his  reputa- 
tion lives. 

The  third  generation  is  still  an  echo  of  Thorvaldsen. 
Bergslien,  belonging  to  a  peasant  family  famous  for  its 
artistic  abilities,  goes  to  Copenhagen,  and  executes  in 
marble  several  of  Thorvaldsen's  works  for  the  museum.  He 
comes  back  to  Norway  and  is  entrusted  with  the  equestrian 
statue  of  "  Carl  Johan  "  which  stands  in  front  of  the  palace, 
and  afterwards  with  the  statue  of  the  creator  of  Norwegain 
literature,  "Henrik  Wergeland,"  which  stands  in  the 
Eidsvolds-Plads.  Fladager,  again,  who  was  a  highly  gifted 
wood  carver,  drifts  into  sculpture  when  he  would  have  been 
far  better  employed  at  his  wood  carving.  This  effort  can 
be  studied  in  No.  117  in  his  model  and  sketch  of  an  angel 
with  font,  which  can  be  seen  in  place  in  the  Vor  Frelsers 
Church.  Now  look,  as  we  did,  at  Mathias  Skeibrok's 
"  Ragnar  Lodbrok  among  the  Serpents,11  and  his  statue  of 
"Tired,"  —  a  servant-maid,  fallen  asleep  from  weariness, 
a  figure  full  of  feeling  and  truth.  Pause  and  study  and 
note  the  great  stride  he  has  made,  then  go  on  and  look  at 
Sinding^  "  Captive  Mother"  and  "  A  ma  Fern  me,"  and  you 
will  realise  that  Thorvaldsen's  art  is  dead,  and  that 
Norway  is  ready  to  hold  her  own  in  Europe.  The  rooms 
adjoining  the  vestibule  contain  the  casts  from  the 
sculptures  of  ancient  Greece.  Here  we  wandered,  renew- 
ing our  old  acquaintance  with  matchless  Venus  de  Milo, 


CASTS  FROM  THE  ANTIQUE  31 

Theseus ;  the  headless  Ilissus,  and  the  Centaurs  in  conflict 
with  the  Lapithae; — all  taken  from  the  ruins  of  the 
Parthenon.  They  were  but  plaster,  yet  we  could  not  tear 
ourselves  away,  and  lingered  over  them  lovingly  and 
long. 


CHAPTER  III 
CHRISTIANIA— HOLMENKOLLEN 

WITH  a  head  full  of  art,  I  proposed  that  our  next 
course  should  consist  of  nature,  pure  and  un- 
adulterated, and  suggested  that  we  could  find  both  nature 
and  food  at  Holmenkollen,  one  of  the  most  delightful 
spots  in  the  environs  of  Christiania.  The  city  tram  takes 
one  to  the  terminus  at  Majorstuen,  and  the  electric  car 
goes  from  the  terminus  to  Holmenkollen.  Should  one  be 
doubtful  about  the  fare  a  few  small  coins  presented  in  the 
palm  to  the  collector  is  sufficient.  He  will  take  what  is 
his  due,  and  nothing  more.  The  line  runs  past  several 
nice  country  houses,  and  through  a  new  villa  colony, 
neatly  built  and  gaily  coloured,  through  pine  forest, 
where,  here  and  there,  one  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  fjord, 
till  Midstuen  is  reached.  From  there  is  a  short  steep 
walk  to  the  Tourist  Hotel.  This  is  a  truly  picturesque 
building,  with  much  carving;  pent  roofs,  from  which  jut 
ornamental  dragon  heads ;  long  balconies  where  it  is 
possible  to  have  a  cosy  meal;  broad  terraces  with  in- 
numerable little  tables  and  chairs,  and  a  covered-in 
bandstand. 

I  left  it  to  our  hostess  to  provide  what  she  thought 
best  for  our  very  late  lunch  or  Norwegian  dinner.  I  had 
found  out  by  this  time  why  public  buildings  were  only 
open  from  twelve  to  three.  Three  o'clock  is  the  dinner 
hour,  when  all  doors  are  locked  and  the  streets  are  empty. 

32 


OSCARSHAL  33 

Sitting  on  the  terrace,  awaiting  our  repast,  we  enjoyed  to 
the  full  the  lovely  view  from  this  coign  of  vantage.  It  had 
rained  once  or  twice  during  the  morning,  and  the  sun  was 
now  chasing  the  great  white  clouds  whose  shadows  swept 
swiftly  over  the  smooth,  brilliant,  green  sward  of  the 
downs. 

To  the  left  the  town,  with  its  big  stucco  houses  and 
church  steeples,  spreads  along  the  shore.  The  glazed  tile 
roofs  glisten — and  twinkle  ;  beautiful  deep  blue  smooth 
hills  covered  with  a  thick  growth  of  pine  encircle  the  two 
fjords  (Christian ia  and  Bunde)  on  every  side;  and  these 
stretch  away  out  of  sight.  Islands,  large  and  small,  raise 
their  rocky  heads.  On  our  left  are  the  pine-clad  hills  of 
Ekeberg,  at  the  foot  of  which  runs  in  the  Bjorvik,  divided 
by  the  peninsula  on  which  stands  the  old  fortress  of 
Akershus.  Pipervik  is  the  landing-place  where  our  ship's 
launches  run  to  and  fro  to  the  Vectis.  She  looks  quite 
imposing  anchored  between  the  shore  and  the  island  of 
Hovedo,  while  beyond  again  rises  Bleko. 

To  the  right  is  the  peninsula  of  Bygdo,  on  which  is  the 
chateau  of  Oscarshal.  The  white  well-kept  road,  running 
between  the  tall  pines,  spruce,  and  birch  that  flank  it  on 
either  side,  goes  gently  uphill  till  it  reaches  the  Hall, 
which  is  the  same  that  I  spoke  of  as  containing  examples 
of  Tidemand's  art  representing  Norsk  peasant  life.  The 
walls  are  also  adorned  by  Norwegian  landscapes  by  Frich. 
In  the  drawing-room  on  the  ground-floor  are  statues  by 
Michelsen  ;  bas-reliefs  by  C.  Borch,  from  Frithjof  s  saga ; 
and  landscapes  by  H.  Gude.  Nothing  in  Oscarshal  com- 
pares to  my  mind  with  the  weird  room  in  this  hotel, 
decorated  by  Gerad  Munthe.  This  artist  has  done  much 
towards  the  colour  and  composition  for  the  weaving  of  the 
delightful  cloths  used  for  hangings,  which  are  now  the 
prevailing  styles  in  this  flourishing  Norwegian  trade, 

3 


34  THE  FAIRY-TALE  ROOM 

The  Fairy-tale  room,  as  it  is  called,  is  unique.  It  is 
decorated  with  grotesque  polychrome,  fairy  scenes  carved 
in  wood  and  fantastically  ornamented.  This  is  the  room 
that  the  Queen  uses  when  she,  in  company  of  the  King 
and  little  Prince  Olaf,  honours  Holmenkollen  with  her 
presence.  Her  visits  are  much  talked  of  by  mine  hostess. 
The  door  has  long  hinges  that  run  across,  great  tongues 
of  floral  flames.  On  either  side  are  weird-faced  Jotnar 
holding  keys  in  their  beak-like  mouths,  carved  as  heads  to 
the  tree  columns  that  form  the  door-posts.  Over  the 
door  the  legend  runs — 

"  Ndrdan  under  fjallo. 
Djupt  under  hello. 
Der  leikar  ded." 

Panels,  illustrating  fairy  tales,  run  round  the  room  over  a 
handsomely  carved  dado,  each  panel  being  framed  by  an 
extraordinary  pattern  of  threaded  beads.  The  ceiling  is 
carved  in  a  geometrical  wheel  pattern,  intersected  with 
zebra-marked  beams.  The  chairs  are  also  fantastic, 
rather  Chippendale  in  pattern,  but  with  a  great  bird,  with 
erected  crest,  forming  the  top  of  the  back.  The  crest  is 
repeated  again  on  the  left-hand  front  leg.  This  is  an 
upper  room  and  should  not  be  missed.  Downstairs,  too, 
are  many  interesting  objects — tankards,  the  old-fashioned 
carved  wooden  irons,  queer  candlesticks,  and  some  good 
pictures. 

From  this  hotel  the  road  still  leads  upwards,  connecting 
the  Frognersaeter  with  Holmenkollen,  the  Keiser  Wilhelms 
Veien  it  is  called,  which  runs  almost  all  the  way  through 
the  woods  to  the  saeter,  which  last  was  purchased  by  the 
city  of  Christiania.  The  former  Villa  Heftye  contains  a 
collection  of  Norse  antiquities.  There  are  a  few  old 
Norwegian  timber  buildings,  from  Telemarken  and  the 


A  NORWEGIAN  WINTER  35 

Hallingdal,  but  this  is,  as  Herodotus  remarks,  "  As  I  have 
heard  say.11  We  were  contented  with  Holmenkollen  and 
its  view,  and  worked  quietly  on  till  the  hour  approached 
for  the  dinner  launch  at  Pipervik,  which  waits  for  no  man, 
not  even  the  captain. 

In  winter,  when  the  fjord  is  frozen,  which,  according  to 
the  chart,  it  invariably  is,  every  house  in  Christiania  on 
fete  days  is  forsaken.  All  the  people  are  gathered  either 
at  the  top  or  the  bottom  of  the  Holmenkolbakken, 
assembled  in  their  thousands  on  their  ski  and  in  sledges 
to  witness  the  sports.  "To  us,11  our  hostess  remarked, 
"  the  winter  is  more  interesting.  We  then  have  hundreds 
of  people,  and  the  air  is  so  pure.11  The  same  sentiments 
exactly  as  are  breathed  by  Bjornson  in  a  sketch  on  his 
country  and  people,  written  for  Harper's  Magazine,  in 
which  he  avers  that  a  journey  through  the  country  in 
winter  is  better  than  the  ordinary  summer  touring.  He 
maintains  that  the  people  are  then  seen  to  advantage, 
and  that  such  a  journey  is  better  for  one's  health.  He 
writes :  "  To  make  this  last  clear,  I  must  explain  that 
Norway  is  not  the  cold  country  which  its  geographical 
position  would  lead  one  to  believe.  The  reasons  for  this 
are  two  :  a  warm  current  runs  along  the  Norwegian  coast, 
fills  the  space  inside  the  great  banks  and  islands,  and 
passes  into  the  fjords ;  these  same  banks  prevent  also  the 
ice  water  from  the  polar  seas  from  reaching  the  coast.  Is 
it  possible  that  this  should  also  have  an  effect  upon  the 
people  of  the  country  ?  Is  this  the  reason  that  this 
northern  country  of  ours,  when  it,  about  five  hundred 
years  since,  only  had  a  population  of  from  two  to  three 
hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  produced  that  succession 
of  men  and  deeds  of  which  Snorre  Sturlasson^  great  work, 
The  He'imskringla^  has  given  a  description — a  pattern  for 
all  times  ? 


36  NOTABLE  MEN 

"Is  this  the  reason  that  our  small  nation,  when  its 
strength  again  began  to  revive  after  destructive  civil  wars 
and  other  great  misfortunes  (such  as  that  raging  epidemic, 
the  '  Black  Death,1  and  another  just  as  great,  the  miser- 
able Danish  rule  through  four  hundred  years),  produced 
that  master-spirit  of  wit,  Ludvig  Holberg,  Moliere's  rival ; 
produced  a  '  folk-poesy '  which  in  legends,  songs,  melodies, 
and  tunes  may  compare  with  that  of  any  other  country ; 
and  which  in  the  course  of  time  has  begotten  a  literature 
and  music  which  are  even  creating  considerable  attention 
outside  our  own  borders  ?  The  composers  Edvard  Grieg 
and  Johan  Svendsen  are  counted  among  the  first  of  living 
musicians ;  Selmer  and  Sinding  are  also  rising  in  renown. 
Executants  such  as  Ole  Bull,  Erika,  Lie-Nissen,  and 
Edmund  Neupert  are  well  known  in  the  musical  world. 
Henrik  Ibsen's  dramas,  the  Germans  declare,  have  opened 
up  a  new  road  in  dramatic  art.  Alexander  Kielland's 
witty  sketches  of  modern  life  are  now  as  widely  read  in 
Germany,  Austria,  and  Hungary  as  in  the  Scandinavian 
countries.  Norway  has  also  produced  the  greatest  mathe- 
matician of  our  time,  Nils  Abel,  who  died  in  1829.  Only 
twenty-seven  years  old,  after  having  enriched  mathematical 
science  with  epoch-marking  discoveries.  ..." 

"  Norway  is  a  *  winter  land,1  and  in  my  eyes  it  is  then  it 
is  most  beautiful ;  white  valleys,  dark  grey  rocks,  and 
mountains  covered  with  forests.  How  finely  the  latter 
stand  out  against  the  white  background !  Or,  perhaps, 
the  naked  mountains  are  overrun  by  frozen  streams  and 
torrents,  which  shine  in  all  colours  from  greyish  white, 
emerald  green,  to  rusty  yellow ;  one  part  of  the  forest 
stands  snow  powdered,  another  partly  powdered,  and  yet 
another  wholly  green,  and  by  its  side  the  birch  trees 
delicately  rime-frosted  to  their  finest  tips,  or  standing  out 
brownish  blue  against  the  verdant  pines  and  firs.  The 


CLEANLY  CHRISTIANIA  37 

many  buildings  on  the  farmsteads,  with  their  snowclad 
roofs,  lie  comfortably  nestled  together  in  the  dazzling 
white  snowfields.  I  do  not  understand  why  people  who 
travel  for  the  sake  of  their  health  do  not  choose  the 
winter  in  which  to  visit  Norway.  And  the  air !  There 
is  no  bacteria  in  that  air.1' 

We  landed  at  Pipervik  again  next  morning  to  do 
what  we  could  of  the  town.  It  was  delightfully  fresh, 
the  wide,  clean  streets  newly  swept  and  watered.  It 
seems  a  veritable  white  city,  where  the  householder  cleans 
his  windows  and  house  fronts,  thus  embellishing  his  town 
more  effectually  than  the  erection  of  grand  buildings, 
though  these  are  not  wanting.  Carl  Johans  Gade  is 
flanked  with  fine  houses,  extending  from  the  palace  at 
the  west  end  to  the  station  at  the  east.  This  is  a  grand 
street,  some  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long,  with  Eidsvold 
plads  in  front,  with  its  rustling  green  trees  and  cool  shade 
— the  Bond  Street  of  Christiania.  On  the  west  side  stands 
the  National  Theatre,  with  colossal  statues  of  Ibsen  and 
Bjornson  by  Stephen  Sinding,  and  beyond  a  bronze  statue 
of  Johan  Brun  the  actor,  by  B.  Bergslien.  Then  there  is 
the  University  founded  by  Frederick  vi.  of  Denmark  in 
1811,  at  the  back  of  which  are  the  Viking  ships  in  their 
wooden  sheds,  and  beyond  again,  but  farther  down  the 
Eidsvold  plads,  the  handsome  fa£ade  of  the  Norwegian 
House  of  Parliament. 

The  Norwegian  faith  is  Lutheran,  and  the  churches 
in  their  internal  arrangements  indicate  Luther's  courage. 
It  has  not  been  thought  necessary  to  mutilate  the  artistic 
remains  of  the  old  religion.  The  pictures,  statues,  and 
gilding  are  allowed  to  remain.  The  ornamentation  is 
not  very  remarkable,  but  there  is  enough  to  show  that 
the  Northmen  have  not  rushed  into  the  barbaric  reaction 
which  led  at  the  Reformation  to  the  wanton  destruction 


38  THE  OLDEST  RAILWAY 

of  glorious  old  cathedrals  and  religious  houses.  The 
botanical  gardens,  too,  which  are  situated  a  little  way 
out  of  the  town,  are  really  what  they  pretend  to  be. 
They  contain  specimens  of  the  common  wild  plants  of 
the  country,  growing  in  the  open  air,  and  arranged  in 
their  natural  order. 

We  happened  on  a  lucky  day  for  the  big  market.  All 
Christiania  and  its  country  neighbours  had  assembled  in 
the  Stor  Torv,  that  was  bright  with  vegetables,  fruit,  and 
flowers.  The  country  carts  stood  patiently  in  lines  behind 
the  stalls.  I  had  great  hopes  of  seeing  some  of  the 
wonderful  costumes  one  hears  tell  of;  But  no,  the  all- 
pervading  little  shawl,  thrown  over  the  head,  the  dark 
skirt  and  big  apron,  were  all  we  saw — the  shawl  that 
might  be  seen  anywhere  and  any  day  from  Connemara  to 
Constantinople. 

There  is  a  railway  from  Christiania  to  Eidsvold,  the 
oldest  in  Norway.  It  was  constructed  in  1851.  This  was 
to  a  great  extent  the  property  of  a  few  English  engineers 
and  contractors.  It  was  a  most  profitable  speculation,  as 
might  be  expected,  as  it  opened  out  this  great  highway 
of  Norway.  Transit  at  a  halfpenny  a  mile,  at  con- 
venient hours,  naturally  induced  the  whole  population  to 
become  habitual  railway  travellers.  This  railway  passes 
through  a  rich  fertile  valley,  with  a  pretty  river  winding 
along  it,  and  then  plunges  through  some  dense  forests  of 
tall  pines,  with  stems  so  straight  and  uniformly  tapered 
that  they  appear  like  huge  fishing-rods.  Their  bark  has 
a  fine  red  colour,  which  reflects  the  sunlight  and  fills  the 
whole  atmosphere  between  the  labyrinth  of  bare  poles 
with  a  warm  tinge. 

Eidsvold  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  river  which  flows 
from  the  Miosen  Lake  and  unites  with  the  Glommen.  In 
the  farmhouse  of  Eidsvoldvark  the  Norwegian  constitution 


LAKE  MIOSEN  39 

was  adapted  in  1814.  The  building  has  been  purchased  by 
Government,  and  embellished  by  portraits  of  members  of 
the  first  diet.  There  is  a  hotel  at  the  station,  where  it 
it  possible  to  procure  all  one  wants. 

The  Miosen  is  the  largest  lake  in  Norway,  and  has  been 
called  Norway's  inland  sea.  It  winds  away  for  62 
miles,  and  is  not  unlike  Windermere.  The  mountains 
that  form  its  basin  rise  to  a  height  of  2300  feet. 
Their  form  is  not  remarkable,  but  their  sides,  sloping 
down  to  the  lake,  are  covered  with  rich  emerald 
verdure,  rivalling,  if  not  excelling,  our  own  green 
fields,  even  those  of  Ireland.  These  slopes  are  backed  by 
fine  woods  of  birch  and  mountain  ash,  and  dotted  about 
them  are  wooden  farmhouses.  Altogether  the  Miosen 
is  a  beautiful  lake,  but  does  not  excite  raptures  in  this 
country  of  grand  scenery. 

About  half-way  on  the  lake  is  the  site  of  the  ancient 
town  of  Store  Hammer,  now  called  Hamar,  which  before 
the  railway  was  nothing  but  a  large  hamlet,  as  its  name 
signifies.  Now  it  seems  a  most  prosperous  and  well-to-do 
town,  which  dates  as  a  municipality  from  1848.  It  is  the 
seat  of  the  Amtmand,  or  governor  of  the  district,  and  of 
a  bishop,  and  is  charmingly  situated  between  two  bays, 
the  Furnaesfjord  to  the  north,  and  the  Akersvik  to  the 
east.  Hamar  dates  from  1152,  when  a  bishopric  was 
founded  here  by  Adrian  rv.,  whose  name  was  Nicholas 
Breakspeare.  Born  before  1100  A.D.  at  Langley,  near 
St.  Albans  in  Hertfordshire,  he  is  the  only  Englishman 
who  has  occupied  the  papal  chair.  He  was  sent  as  a 
legate  to  Denmark  and  Norway  in  1146.  On  this 
mission  he  converted  many  of  the  inhabitants  to  Chris- 
tianity, and  erected  Upsal  into  an  archiepiscopal  see.  It 
was  soon  after  his  return  to  Rome  that  Anastasius,  suc- 
cessor of  Eugenius,  died,  and  Nicholas  was  unanimously 


40  GEORGE  BIDDER,  THE  CALCULATING  BOY 

chosen  Pope  against  his  own  inclination  in  November 
1154. 

Hamar  was  destroyed  by  the  Swedes  in  1567.  The 
ruins  of  the  cathedral,  dating  from  the  twelfth  century, 
remain  outside  the  new  town,  four  round  arches  of  the 
nave  resting  on  massive  piers.  To  reach  this,  one  of 
the  rare  ruins  in  Norway,  you  follow  the  Strand-Gade 
to  the  left  of  the  station,  and  then  Store-Hammer-Gade, 
passing  under  the  railway  outside  the  town.  So  much 
for  one  Englishman  who  left  his  mark  in  the  world  and 
in  this  town.  Now  to  another,  who  did  as  much,  if  not 
more,  for  the  prosperity  of  Norway. 

Close  by  the  ruins  is  the  large  farm  of  Store-Hammer, 
which  belonged,  and  probably  still  belongs,  to  the  family 
of  Mr.  George  Bidder,  once  the  famous  calculating  boy. 
His  extraordinary,  natural  aptitude  for  calculation  when  a 
lad  induced  his  father,  who  was  a  stone-mason  at  Morten 
Hampstead,  to  exhibit  him.  By  the  kindness  of  Sir  John 
Herschel  he  was  sent  to  school,  but  his  father  could  not 
spare  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  eggs,  and  took  him 
away  again.  He  was  saved,  however,  from  this  misfortune 
by  Sir  Henry  Jardine,  who  took  a  great  interest  in  him, 
and  arranged  that  he  should  attend  classes  at  the  Edin- 
burgh University.  On  leaving  he  received  a  post  in  the 
Ordnance  Survey,  but  gradually  drifted  into  engineering 
work  with  Robert  Stephenson,  whose  acquaintance  he  had 
made  at  Edinburgh.  With  Robert  Stephenson  he  made 
this  first  railway  in  Norway,  from  Christiania  to  Eidsvold, 
which  now  continues  its  way  right  through  the  country. 

We  steamed  on  till  we  reached  Lillehammer,  which  you 
may  call  a  large  village  or  a  small  town.  It  has  broad 
and  remarkably  clean  streets,  large  wooden  houses,  bright 
windows  with  white  frames,  and  lace  curtains.  There  is 
scarcely  a  window  in  the  main  street  that  is  not  filled 


GUDBRANDSDAL  41 

with  flowers  in  bright  red  pots.  Everybody  appears  to 
be  industrious  and  well-to-do,  and  nobody  rich  and  use- 
less. At  this  point  we  turned,  though  it  would  have 
been  most  interesting  to  explore  the  Gudbrandsdal 
which  is  watered  by  the  Laagen,  and  is  the  birthplace 
of  a  high-spirited  race  among  whom  curious  old  customs 
still  survive.  According  to  Norwegian  ideas  the  valley 
is  well  cultivated,  but  the  land  has  been  laboriously  re- 
claimed by  the  removal  of  great  quantities  of  stones. 
The  chief  occupation  of  the  natives  is  cattle-raising, 
and  the  breeding  of  the  pretty  horses  that  bear  its  name. 
In  summer  many  of  them  migrate  with  their  herds  to  the 
saeters,  which  are  built  high  up  the  mountains  wherever 
the  grass  grows  plentifully. 

We  arrived  in  Christiania  in  the  late  afternoon  of  the 
following  day.  Long  before  we  reached  Pipervik  we  heard 
the  deep  note  of  the  Vectis,  and  as  we  arrived  at  the 
quay  the  last  boat  was  about  to  push  off.  After  the  long 
day  it  was  delightful  to  be  once  more  on  board  in  the  lap 
of  luxury,  which  consists,  in  my  case,  of  a  bath,  a  change 
of  clothes,  and  a  long  chair  on  the  cool  deck.  It  seems 
so  absurd  to  talk  as  if  one  wanted  a  cool  place  in  this 
latitude  61°  N.,  the  same  as  the  ice-bound  coast  of 
Greenland  ;  but  so  it  is,  Christiania  is  full  of  sun,  warm — 
nay,  even  scorching  !  The  great  screw,  after  two  or  three 
spasmodic  throbs,  took  up  the  tale,  Christiania  was  left 
behind,  luxuriant,  and  peacefully  beautiful. 

We  dwellers  on  a  misty  island  all  dream  of  the  bright 
sky  of  the  sunny  south,  of  its  clear  blue  zenith,  and 
golden -hazed  horizon.  But  when  we  have  lived  beneath 
it  for  a  while,  and  gazed  upon  it  daily,  the  fiery,  dazzling 
beauty  overstrains  the  senses,  and  the  eye  soon  tires  of  its 
glare.  In  this  modest  twilight  of  the  north,  the  gentle 
"gloamin"  there  is  a  tempered  fascination  that  never 


42  THE  SAETER  OF  MORK 

wearies  us ;  but  grows  continually  in  loveliness  even  unto 
midnight,  and  to  the  joyous  awakening  of  another  day. 

Whilst  writing  upon  saeters,  a  night  spent  in  one  might 
be  as  interesting  reading  to  others  as  it  was  to  me.  The 
privileged  person  in  this  case  was  Mattieu  Williams,  who 
gladly  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  of  spending  a 
night  in  the  saeter  attached  to  the  farm  of  his  good 
hostess  of  Mork.  There  were  several  of  these  wooden 
huts  dotted  about  a  dreary  moorland,  round  which  high 
peaks  of  glacier-bearing  mountains  rose.  He  found  some 
men  asleep  in  one  of  the  huts  ;  and  upon  awakening  them, 
they  offered  to  provide  him  with  food  and  lodging.  As 
there  appeared  to  be  many  saeters,  and  these  attached  to 
different  farms,  he  inquired  whether  the  one  they  pro- 
posed for  his  lodging  belonged  to  Mork.  Whereupon 
the  men  looked  curiously  at  each  other,  and  one  of  them, 
with  a  significant  grin,  quite  unintelligible  to  him,  asked 
if  he  particularly  wished  to  lodge  in  the  Mork  saeter.  .  .  . 
"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  very  decidedly ;  for  the  fellows 
were  a  dirty-looking  set,  and  he  was  certain  that  even  a 
saeter,  if  it  belonged  to  Thora  Olsdatter,  would  be  clean. 

His  answer  provoked  a  general  laugh,  and  they 
escorted  him  in  a  procession  to  a  hut  at  some  distance 
from  the  rest,  knocked  at  the  door,  and  called  to  the 
inmate,  who,  for  some  time,  made  no  answer.  At  last 
a  blooming  lass,  a  ruddy,  muscular,  rural  beauty — opened 
the  door,  and  looked  forth  with  a  frown  of  stern  maidenly 
defiance.  After  a  volley  of  banter,  which  she  received 
very  contemptuously,  he  was  introduced  as  a  traveller  who 
had  come  all  the  way  from  England  to  visit  her  saeter, 
and  lodge  there  for  the  night.  He  was  received  very 
haughtily  at  first,  until  he  frowned  severely  at  the  scoffer, 
and  told  her  of  his  coming  from  Mork  as  the  guest  of 
Thora  Ols,  who  had  sent  him  thither.  She  then  bade 


PHYLLIS  OF  THE  UPLANDS  43 

him  welcome,  and,  immediately  he  entered,  shut  the  door 
unceremoniously  upon  the  grinning  swains  outside,  who 
were  seeking  an  excuse  to  come  in  likewise.  She  supplied 
him  with  supper  of  cheese  and  fladbrod,  and  showed  him 
the  bed,  from  which  she  had  just  risen,  which  was  to  be 
his;  explaining  that  she  had  slept  during  the  day,  and 
that  her  work  was  about  to  commence,  and  would  last 
through  the  night.  She  then  disappeared. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  he  heard  a  wild  "  yodl,"  very 
loud,  but  not  very  melodious.  The  damsel  was  returning 
with  a  flock  of  about  thirty  goats,  and  some  six  or  eight 
cows.  She  took  a  little  bag  of  salt  from  the  hut,  and, 
before  she  fairly  cleared  the  threshold,  was  the  centre  of 
a  pyramid  of  goats,  who  were  crowding  round  her  and 
leaping  over  each  other's  backs,  for  the  privilege  of  licking 
her  hand  after  each  dip  into  the  salt-bag.  She  repelled 
the  goats  as  energetically  as  she  had  repelled  the  men ; 
but  more  mercifully,  for  she  thrust  the  ends  of  her  fingers 
into  the  mouth  of  each  before  giving  it  the  buffet  of 
dismissal.  .  .  .  The  cows  were  next  treated  in  like  manner, 
then  seized  by  the  horns  and  ears,  as  the  goats  were 
seized  before,  and  each  one  led  to  its  proper  stall  in  an 
adjoining  building. 

The  milking  was  a  work  of  some  time,  for  the  girl 
was  quite  unaided  in  this  scuffle  with  her  flock,  and  in  all 
the  subsequent  operations  of  milking  and  cheese-making. 
She  was  queen  and  mistress  of  her  own  domain,  and  her 
efforts  seemed  pretty  equally  divided  between  the  cares  of 
internal  administration,  and  the  repelling  of  the  external 
male  invaders ;  whose  gallantry  seemed  entirely  confined  to 
teasing  her,  and  led  to  no  suggestion  of  aid  in  her  really 
arduous  labours.  It  may  be  that  the  men  were  idle 
because  it  was  Sunday,  so  that  they  had  only  come  up  on 
a  visit  to  the  saeter  land.  It  is,  however,  notorious,  and 


44  "GAMMEL  OST  " 

acknowledged  throughout  Norway,  that  in  the  saeter 
woman  reigns  supreme.  Indeed,  the  social  position  of  the 
male  in  a  Norwegian  saeter  is  somewhat  similar  to  that 
which  he  holds  in  humble  English  life  on  washing-day. 

The  room  itself  was  about  five  yards  long  by  four  yards 
wide,  built  of  wood,  and  lined  with  shelves,  on  which  were 
cheeses  already  made,  and  the  materials  for  making 
more.  The  bed  was  of  the  usual  rustic  Norwegian  con- 
struction. It  consisted  of  an  oblong  box  made  fast  to 
the  wall,  and  partly  filled  with  straw,  over  which  were 
some  coarse  sheets,  shawls,  and  a  sheep-skin.  In  the 
corner  opposite  to  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  almost  within 
arm's  reach,  was  the  great  hearth,  covered  with  a  stone 
and  plaster  dome.  The  other  corners  were  occupied  by 
benches,  on  which  the  vessels  for  standing  and  mixing  the 
milk,  with  the  other  cheese  materials,  were  placed.  There 
was  also  a  second  small  apartment  or  cupboard,  for  the 
stowage  of  pans,  pails,  etc.  All  was  scrupulously  clean  in 
this  particular  saeter.  Soon  after  sunset,  the  girl  came 
in,  bearing  heavy  pails  of  rich  milk  from  cows  and  goats. 
Some  lumps  of  wood  were  taken  from  their  store  place 
under  the  bed,  and  a  crackling  fire  was  soon  blazing  on 
the  hearth.  The  iron  cauldron,  filled  with  a  mysterious 
mixture  of  goat's  milk  and  other  unknown  ingredients, 
from  which  the  green  cheese  that  ripens  in  time  to 
"gammel  ost"  is  made,  was  hooked  to  the  black  chain 
over  the  middle  of  the  fire.  For  some  hours  after  the 
busy  lass  was  there,  stirring,  mixing,  and  watching  till  the 
dawn,  when  she  disappeared. 

Most  of  the  flat  land  in  Norway  is  in  this  southern  por- 
tion of  the  country.  There  are  considerable  stretches  in 
the  district  around  Lake  Mjosen  in  Ringerike,  in  the 
Christiania  valley  and  on  either  side  of  the  fjord. 
Naturally,  the  most  populated  parts  of  the  country  are 


D     < 

C      ~. 

' 


LONELY  FARMS  45 

the  valleys  where  the  farms  cluster  round  a  lake,  or  along 
a  river.  Often  in  the  forest  districts  the  farms  are 
situated  on  mountain  ridges,  separated  from  each  other 
by  long  wild  woods.  Each  parish  is  isolated  from  its 
neighbour,  and  there  are  but  few  villages  or  country  inns, 
so  that  the  people  live  a  very  solitary  life,  only  meeting 
on  Sundays  at  church.  The  children  are  rather  better  off, 
as  they  meet  each  other  on  their  way  to  and  from  school. 
On  Saturday  and  Sunday  evenings  they  again  seek  each 
other  on  the  roads,  or  at  one  of  the  farms  for  a  dance. 
This  is,  however  only  in  the  heyday  of  youth ;  this 
past,  they  live  quietly  at  home,  happy  and  content. 
This  life  can  hardly  be  looked  on  as  solitude,  in  the  full 
sense  of  the  word,  as  the  farmer,  his  wife  and  children, 
servants  and  tenants,  live  and  work  together  from  year  to 
year. 

The  Norwegian  farm  buildings  are,  relatively  speaking, 
expensive  to  build.  The  winters  being  so  cold,  everything 
on  the  farm  has  to  be  put  under  a  roof.  The  animals 
must  have  good  warm  stables,  the  hay,  corn,  roots,  and 
crops  of  all  kinds  have  to  be  stored  in  houses,  the  manure 
even  has  to  be  stored  in  a  cellar  under  the  stables,  other- 
wise its  strength  would  be  wasted  for  the  land.  The 
older  farms  consisted  of  a  multitude  of  small  houses,  each 
fitted  for  its  own  special  use,  clustering  round  a  courtyard. 
Of  late  it  has  become  the  rule  to  limit  the  number  of 
houses  on  a  common  farm  to  four.  The  older  farms,  to 
my  mind,  are  the  prettier,  with  their  silver-grey  wooden 
walls  and  birch-bark  roofs  covered  with  flowering  sods. 
The  modern  farmhouse,  or  gaard,  as  it  is  called,  is  more 
pretentious.  The  ground-floor  is  of  stone,  built  for  a 
great  cellar  under  the  whole  house.  This  is  generally 
painted  white,  the  rest  of  the  house,  one  or  two  storeys 
high,  is  built  of  logs,  and  generally  wainscoted  on  the 


46  THE  STORE-HOUSE 

inside,  and  painted  white  or  red  outside.  Near  the  main 
building,  but  separated  from  it,  is  the  laundry,  the  room 
for  the  hired  help,  and  accommodation  for  the  winter 
store  of  fuel.  The  out-building  houses  the  animals,  and 
the  hay,  grain,  and  implements. 

The  stabbuTj  or  store-house,  is  a  typical  Norwegian 
piece  of  architecture,  and  for  some  reason  or  other  in  some 
valleys  is  far  more  ornamental  than  the  other  buildings, 
especially  in  Telemarken.  As  a  rule,  the  stdbbur  is 
divided  into  two  storeys,  and  is  used  for  the  storage  of 
preserved  provisions,  flour,  cured  pork,  meat,  herring, 
polonies,  and  hams  ;  the  year's  supply  of  fladbrod  is  ranged 
along  the  walls  in  great  piles.  I  might  mention  here 
that  the  making  and  baking  of  the  bread  is  an  art  not 
understood  by  all,  and  that  it  is  the  most  important  and 
essential  article  of  food  of  the  peasantry.  It  is  made 
from  oat-,  barley-,  or  rye-meal.  The  dough  is  rolled  out 
on  a  large  board  till  it  becomes  as  thin  as  a  wafer  and 
quite  big  round.  The  baking  is  done  on  an  iron  griddle, 
which  is  placed  on  the  hearth  on  glowing  embers. 

Formerly,  the  sheep-skin  quilts  and  calf-skins,  when  not 
in  use,  were  stored  in  the  stabbur,  with  the  blankets, 
cotton  quilts,  and  other  household  articles  of  value. 
Latterly,  these  have  been  kept  in  an  upper  room  in  the 
large  houses.  These  skin  covers  sound  cosy  for  a  cold 
night.  Both  are  very  softly  prepared,  and  the  peasantry 
sleep,  the  calf-skin  underneath  and  the  sheep-skin  on  top, 
the  woolly  side  in.  A  smithy  is  generally  to  be  found  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  other  houses ;  and  of  old 
a  badstue  or  bathroom,  where  the  people  of  the  house 
indulged  in  vapour  baths.  But  this  bathing  custom 
went  out,  Mr.  Bjornson  says,  with  the  introduction  of 
Christianity,  when  the  priests  and  monks  set  their  faces 
against  it. 


LONGING  FOR  SAETER  LIFE  47 

While  the  price  of  land  in  other  countries  has  been  de- 
creasing, the  reverse  has  been  the  case  in  Norway,  in  all 
probability  from  the  fact  that  the  holdings  are  small,  and 
that  husbandry  is  combined  with  other  means  of  livelihood, 
such  as  forestry  and  fishing.  In  some  districts  nearly  the 
whole  population  move  to  the  saeter,  often  one  or  two 
days'  journey  distant.  But  as  a  rule,  it  is  only  the  eldest 
daughter  on  the  farm,  with  or  without  a  female  assistant, 
and  a  herd-boy  who  goes  there.  Oddly  enough,  those  who 
have  been  accustomed  to  the  life  in  a  saeter,  become  ill 
from  longing  when  the  summer  comes  should  they  not  be 
chosen  to  go  up  with  the  cattle ;  and  the  same  longing,  it 
is  said,  comes  to  the  cows.  If  one  accustomed  to  going  to 
the  mountains  is  kept  behind  at  the  farmstead,  she  will 
wander  about,  waiting  and  longing  to  get  away,  and  on 
the  first  opportunity,  if  not  well  looked  after,  the  herd 
will  rush  to  the  saeter,  led  by  the  bell  cow,  who  knows  all 
about  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LAURVIK— COLIN  ARCHER  THE  SHIPBUILDER 

WHEN  the  reveille  sounded,  we  were  skirting  the 
rockbound  coast  of  Syd  Telemarken.  The  rest- 
less waters  of  the  Skagerak  rolled  in  long  ridges,  and 
where  the  low  skerries  jutted  out  the  breakers  raved  and 
flung  white  wreaths  of  foam  high  into  the  air.  Long 
winding  fjords  stretched  far  into  the  heart  of  the  ice- worn 
hills,  for  the  whole  of  this  part  of  Norway  is  a  perfect 
maze  of  lakes  and  swift-running  rivers.  The  rounded 
summits  stretched  away  inland  for  miles  and  miles,  often 
repeating  the  same  smooth  outline,  ridge  beyond  ridge. 
Fresh  vistas  opened  as  we  thrashed  our  way  west.  For 
a  short  time  we  would  see  right  up  the  fjord,  then  the 
headlands  would  block  up  the  glimpse  we  caught  of  calm 
inland  waters,  and  all  would  be  barren  cliffs  and  tumbling 
waves. 

Throughout  the  livelong  day  the  smooth  rocks  were 
gliding  past.  First,  in  the  early  morning  light,  we  looked 
into  the  inlet  which  runs  up  to  Laurvik,  a  mart  for  wood 
pulp,  timber,  and  ice.  In  this  out-of-the-way  corner  is  an 
original  and  clear  thinker,  Colin  Archer  the  shipbuilder, 
he  who  first  taught  naval  architects  the  truth  with  regard 
to  wave  lines,  after  the  great  Scott  Russell  had  been 
working  for  years  on  a  mistaken  theory.  Here,  too,  was 
built  the  Fram,  that  wonderfully  sturdy  little  vessel  which 
carried  Nansen  and  his  dauntless  crew  all  along  the  north 

48 


THE  FRAM  49 

coast  of  Siberia  until  the  islands  of  Llakhof  were  reached, 
when  the  ship's  head  was  turned  to  the  north,  and  she 
was  thrust  right  into  that  dreadful  ice-pack  which  covers 
all  the  dreary  region  of  the  Pole.  On  the  25th  September 
1893  she  was  quite  frozen  in,  and  everything  was  made 
ready  for  the  long  monotonous  drift  which  was  to  last 
until  the  17th  of  July  1896.  A  windmill  was  set  to 
work  to  furnish  the  power  for  the  electric  light,  there 
was  food  in  plenty,  even  comforts  of  all  sorts,  yet  those 
three  tedious  winters  must  have  been  unspeakable  in  their 
long-drawn-out  monotony. 

Nansen,  full  of  energy,  and  longing  to  be  up  and  doing, 
chafed  and  fretted.  His  story,  written  from  day  to  day 
all  through  the  lagging  hours,  almost  makes  one  weary  too. 
Whenever  there  was  a  south-east  wind  and  the  pack  was 
driven  in  the  wished-for  direction,  his  spirits  rose ;  but 
often  the  ice  moved  south,  or  stood  still,  and  then  his 
rhapsodies  about  his  home,  the  pine  woods,  and  those  who 
waited  for  his  return,  became  almost  morbid.  What  a 
relief  it  must  have  been  when  he  at  last  left  the  comforts 
of  his  ice-bound  vessel  and,  with  Johansen  the  sailor  and 
twenty-eight  dogs,  struck  out  over  the  hummocks  and 
mounds  of  the  pack  due  north.  This  desperate  expedi- 
tion started  on  the  14th  March.  Every  day  a  dog  had 
to  be  killed  to  feed  the  starving  pack,  and  at  last,  on 
the  8th  April,  it  appeared  clear  that  there  were  only  dogs 
enough  to  tow  the  sledges  back  to  Franz  Joseph's  Land : 
this  was  in  latitude  86°  13'  6".  AU  the  way  south  the 
poor  faithful  dogs  were  killed  one  by  one,  and  at  last, 
when  the  open  water  came  in  sight,  there  remained  but 
two  dogs.  These  were  shot,  and  the  two  determined  men 
pushed  off  in  two  canvas  canoes.  Winter  came  upon 
them  before  they  had  got  far  south,  so  a  hut  of  stones  and 
driftwood  was  built  on  desolate  "Frederick  Jackson 


So     NANSEN'S  MEANS  TO  ATTAIN  HIS  END 

Island.11  There  nine  long  months  were  spent.  Bears  and 
walrus  were  shot  for  food  and  light,  and  when  the  spring 
came  again,  the  two,  covered  with  grease,  and  black  with 
soot,  started  south  once  more,  and  after  another  hundred 
miles  of  paddling  and  hauling  over  the  ice,  happened  to 
hear  one  day  the  barking  of  a  dog.  Following  the  sound, 
Nansen  soon  found  himself  in  the  comfortable  hut  of  the 
Jackson  Expedition,  where  the  hardships  and  dangers  of 
surely  the  most  wonderful  journey  ever  undertaken  by 
man  came  to  an  end. 

The  most  striking  characteristic  of  Nansen's  expeditions 
is  the  wonderfully  simple  means  he  used  to  attain  his  ends. 
Everything  was  so  thoroughly  practical,  his  sledges  could 
be  drawn  by  one  man.  Instead  of  heavy  boats  he  used 
kayaks — canvas  canoes  copied  from  the  Eskimo,  which 
were  easy  to  mend  when  damaged,  and  could  be  hauled 
up  on  the  ice  in  a  moment.  They  only  weighed  forty-one 
pounds,  but  being  decked  all  over  they  would  go  through 
a  great  deal  of  bad  weather. 

Colin  Archer  must  have  built  the  Fram  wondrously 
well,  for  she  was  nipped  and  squeezed  in  the  terrible  pack 
many  times  without  hurt. 

Helgeraa  Fjord  is  the  next  inlet.  It  leads  north-west 
up  to  Porsgrund  and  Brevik.  Close  to  it  is  the  Langesund 
Fjord.  After  this  we  pass  thousands  of  rocky  skerries. 
Inland  there  are  great  forests,  and  one  river,  the  Skiens- 
Elv,  brings  down  every  year  a  million  and  a  half  of  logs 
to  the  sea.  The  trees  are  felled  in  winter,  the  woodman 
enduring  many  hardships.  He  never  takes  with  him 
more  than  he  can  carry  in  his  naeverkout,  a  kind  of 
knapsack  that  is  made  of  birch-bark  so  closely  platted 
that  it  is  rendered  watertight.  A  bag  of  flour,  salt  bacon, 
herrings,  oatmeal  cake,  and  dried  mutton,  form  his  rations. 
From  his  knapsack  sticks  the  handle  of  his  axe,  and  the 


SKIEN  5 1 

toes  of  a  pair  of  boots.  Outside  are  carried  a  coffee  kettle, 
and  an  iron  pan. 

These  woodmen  travel  on  foot,  or  on  snow-shoes,  miles 
away  into  the  forests,  build  their  own  huts,  which  are 
more  often  than  not  full  of  draughts,  sleep  on  hay  or 
moss,  never  undress,  though  now  and  then  they  dry  their 
stockings ;  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  with  all  its  hardships, 
the  Norse  people  long  for  this  life. 

The  logs  they  cut  during  the  winter  are  dragged  by 
horses  to  the  edge  of  a  mountain  side,  where  they  slide 
down  to  the  river  below.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
summer,  when  the  melting  snows  fill  the  rivers,  the  logs 
are  floated.  Then  begins  an  exciting  time  for  the  gangs 
of  men  employed,  who,  ready  with  poles,  jump  from  rock 
to  log,  pushing,  easing,  and  directing  the  timber  that  is 
constantly  being  driven  into  corners  and  backwaters. 
The  floater  has  often  to  wade  in  to  his  middle  to  cut 
loose  with  his  axe  or  prod  off  into  the  river  the  logs  which 
have  stuck  fast.  The  Norwegian  tramp  steamer,  with  its 
tremendous  deck-load  of  timber,  is  a  familiar  object  on  all 
waters,  and  here  one  may  see  sailing  craft  too  loading  the 
sweet-scented  fir,  through  great  ports  cut  in  their  bows. 

Skien,  which  we  pass  next,  is  the  birthplace  of  Norway's 
dramatic  and  lyric  poet,  Henrik  Ibsen,  the  eldest  son  of 
Knud  Ibsen,  a  merchant  of  this  small  port,  and  his  wife 
Maria  Cornelia  Attenburg.  For  five  generations  the 
family  had  consisted,  on  the  father's  side,  of  a  blending  of 
Danish,  German,  and  Scottish  races,  with  a  little  inter- 
mixture of  pure  Norwegian  on  the  mother's  side.  Un- 
fortunately, in  1836,  Knud  Ibsen  became  insolvent,  and 
the  family  withdrew  in  great  poverty  to  a  cottage  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  town. 

After  brief  schooling  at  Skien,  poor  young  Ibsen  was 
sent  to  be  apprenticed  to  an  apothecary  in  Grimstad, 


52  HENRIK  IBSEN 

where  he  remained  through  seven  long  years  of  drudgery, 
which  set  their  mark  upon  his  spirit.  In  his  nineteenth 
year  he  began  to  write  poetry  of  a  gloomy  kind,  and  him- 
self made  a  sinister  impression  on  persons  who  met  him. 
One  of  his  associates  of  those  days  has  recorded  that  Ibsen 
"  walked  about  Grimstad  like  a  mystery  sealed  with  seven 
seals."" 

I  have  read  through  his  works  with  sympathy  for  the 
man,  but  with  little  love  for  the  characters  he  portrays. 
Where  are  they  ?  Certainly  not  among  the  men  and 
women  we  have  known  intimately,  and  looked  up  to  as 
examples  of  what  home  life  should  be,  upright,  honest, 
manly,  and  most  courteous. 

I  have  said  that  Skien  is  the  town  that  lies  on  the 
north  bank  of  the  Skiens-Elv,  which  here  breaks  through 
a  rocky  barrier  in  two  falls,  and  forms  a  roomy  harbour. 
Besides  the  glamour  that  surrounds  it  as  being  the  birth- 
place of  so  great  a  man  as  Ibsen,  it  is  also  the  starting- 
point  of  one  of  the  greatest  engineering  feats  in  Norway, 
namely,  the  Nordsjo-Skien  Canal,  which  connects  the 
chief  lake  of  Telemarken  Nordsjo  to  Skien  by  three  locks, 
called  the  Locks  of  Loveid,  up  the  Skiens-Elv  hewn  like 
those  of  Trollhatten  out  of  the  rock,  and  on  again  from 
Nordsjo  to  the  Bandak  lakes. 

The  canal  opens  up  an  inland  waterway  65  miles  in 
length  from  the  sea  into  the  very  heart  of  the 
mountains  at  Dalen,  at  the  west  end  of  Lake  Bandak. 
The  height  of  Bandak  above  the  level  of  Nordsjo  is 
187  feet,  which  is  overcome  by  means  of  fourteen  locks, 
five  of  which  are  at  Vrangfos.  The  rise  in  each  lock 
is,  on  an  average,  rather  more  than  13  feet.  The  work 
offered  great  difficulties,  as  some  of  the  fourteen  locks 
could  not  be  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  but  had  to  be  formed 
by  the  aid  of  enormous  dams  of  masonry.  The  dam  at 


THE  SAETERSDAL  53 

Vrangfos,  which  is  the  largest,  is  121  feet  high,  and 
raises  the  level  of  the  water  75  feet.  The  waterfall 
thus  produced  is  something  really  worth  seeing.  Both 
as  regard  scenery  and  construction  this  spot  deserves  a 
visit,  besides  the  chance  of  meeting  an  elk  in  the  adjacent 
forests. 

"Where  Christiansand  stands,  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Saetersdal,  a  stream  of  ice  once  entered  the  Skagerak. 
Saetersdal,  as  its  name  implies,  is  the  mountain  pasture- 
land  of  the  low  country.  In  the  autumn  the  cattle  are 
driven  down  in  great  droves.  At  the  mouth  of  the  glen 
I  walked  down  with  the  procurator  of  the  district  to  see 
what  he  called  a  "  drift.11  I  thought  it  was  a  raft,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  some  forty  cows  and  a  couple  of 
hundred  sheep  and  goats  waiting  to  be  ferried  over  a 
broad  river.  They  were  driven  down  to  a  sandy  point, 
with  logs  stranded  upon  it,  and  a  wooded  hillock  rising 
behind.  There  they  were,  huddled  together,  bleating  and 
lowing,  and  switching  their  tails  in  the  calm  water.  The 
goats  perched  themselves  on  the  logs,  and  men  stood 
amongst  them ;  while  a  flat  ferry-boat,  with  a  load  of 
small  creatures,  was  slowly  rowing  from  the  land. 

It  was  calm,  and  the  hills  had  now  begun  to  be  worth 
looking  at ;  the  light  was  good,  so  the  drift  made  a  pretty 
picture  so  far.  "  The  procurator  had  bought  a  cow,  some- 
one else  a  goat;  and  these  two  were  to  remain  behind. 
Boat-load  after  boat-load  of  small  cattle  were  pitched  and 
tossed  in,  and  ferried  over ;  and  the  poor  sold  goat  was 
left  alone  bleating  lamentably.  Then  the  cows  were 
driven  down  to  the  water's  edge ;  three  or  four  were  put 
into  the  boat ;  and  amidst  loud  shouts  of  '  Keesa,  keesa  ! 1 
away  went  the  herd  over  the  still  water,  snorting  and 
blowing.  Some  went  up  stream,  some  down,  but  all  tried 
to  lay  their  noses  on  their  neighbours'  backs,  and  the 


54  SAETERSDAL  COSTUME 

boat  had  hard  work  to  keep  order.  One  obstinate  cow 
was  hauled  over  by  the  horns;  but  all  landed  safe  and 
sound  at  last ;  and  they  walked  deliberately  up  the 
opposite  bank,  cropping  grass  and  lowing  as  if  they  were 
used  to  swimming  two  hundred  yards." 

At  another  station  I  met  a  party  of  drovers  with  six 
hundred  and  fifty  beasts.  They  were  dressed  in  native 
costume.  "All  clothes  in  this  glen  have  an  upward 
tendency,  which  it  is  hard  to  account  for.  But  so  had 
we,  for  the  matter  of  that,  some  hundred  years  ago,  when 
small  boys'  trousers  were  banded  and  braced  close  under 
their  armpits.  We  either  took  the  fashion  from  the  men 
of  the  Saetersdal,  or  they  took  it  from  us,  and  being  slow- 
moving  there  it  is  still." 

In  other  countries  people  have  waists,  more  or  less, 
short  or  long ;  here  they  have  none.  Men  fasten  the 
waistbands  of  their  trousers  round  their  necks,  and  put 
their  arms  out  of  the  pockets.  Waistcoats  are  put  on 
like  neckcloths,  and  the  general  effect  is  that  of  Mr. 
Nobody,  as  drawn  by  Cruikshank.  The  women,  in  like 
manner,  fasten  their  petticoats  round  their  necks;  but 
they  forgot  to  lengthen  them  when  the  fashion  came  in ; 
consequently  their  coats  are  kilted.  They  wear  many 
different  colours,  each  skirt  appearing  under  the  upper 
one,  and  the  whole  turn  up  at  the  edge.  It  is  not 
unlike  the  bright  coloured  cloth  dress  of  the  Lapp,  but 
the  shortness  of  the  Lapp  costume  is  not  so  noticeable, 
as  they  wear  gaiters  strapped  round  their  legs. 

Saetersdal  is  now  a  wide  pastoral  glen,  but  every  rock 
in  it  is  ice-ground  for  a  distance  of  112  miles,  as  far 
as  the  road  extends  north. 

At  Valle,  after  passing  through  a  wild  narrow  pass 
between  bare  rocks  of  great  height,  the  glen  widens  into 
a  broad  green  strath,  dotted  with  stones  as  big  as  houses, 


THE  OLDEST  GLEN  IN  NORWAY          55 

set  in  the  velvet  turf  as  if  planted  there  on  purpose. 
The  houses  are  built  of  vast  logs  as  big  as  three  modern 
Norwegian  fir-trees.  Their  corners  are  carved  posts,  their 
roofs  project,  there  are  galleries  and  carved  door  frames, 
and  all  about  them  is  old,  dark  brown,  and  strange. 
"At  the  roadside  stood  a  tall,  well-shaped,  straight- 
limbed,  pretty  girl,  with  a  plaid  thrown  over  her  shoulders, 
and  her  head  rolled  in  a  large  shawl.  She  wore  a  jacket 
about  six  inches  long,  and  a  waistcoat  to  match.  She  had 
silver  breast  buckles,  bits  of  red  worsted  embroidery  here 
and  there,  and  several  petticoats  of  various  colours,  the 
longest  of  which  just  reached  the  knee.  She  had  a  magnifi- 
cent pair  of  garters,  with  bright  silver  buckles,  and  a  neat 
pair  of  legs  in  blue  worsted  hose.  As  she  stood  knitting 
behind  a  little  fir  tree,  she  was  the  very  picture  of  a  wild 
mountain  milkmaid.  She  vanished  like  one  of  her  own 
kids  when  she  found  that  she  had  been  seen. 

This  is  said  to  be  the  oldest  glen  in  Norway :  the 
language  is  mixed  with  strange  words,  some  of  which 
sound  like  Welsh  or  Breton.  It  is  said  that  Scotch 
colonists  were  planted  here  after  a  plague  had  thinned 
the  natives.  Old  as  this  human  history  is,  older  ice-marks 
are  perfectly  fresh  in  Saetersdal,  and  sea-shells  yet  stick 
to  rocks  about  the  level  of  the  King's  palace  at  Christiania. 

Christiansand  stands  upon  ice-ground  rocks.  All  the 
islands,  for  miles  out  to  sea,  are  roches  montonnSes,  peering 
above  the  waves.  The  road  leads  inland  through  a  wild 
pass,  with  hills  on  either  side,  with  dark  pines  growing 
in  chinks  in  the  grey  rock.  The  bottom  of  this  pass  is 
filled  with  a  plain  of  boulders  and  sand,  which  look  as 
if  ice  had  dropped  them  yesterday.  A  good  mountaineer 
can  walk  in  a  few  days  from  Valle  where  waters  run  south, 
to  the  head  of  the  Hardanger,  or  to  Bukke  Fjord,  whose 
waters  run  west  and  south-west. 


56  CHRISTIANSAND 

Christiansand  might  be  called  a  square  town,  with 
water  on  three  sides  of  it.  All  the  streets  run  either 
north-east  or  south-east,  exactly  at  right  angles.  To 
the  south  is  the  fortified  Odderoen,  which  divides  the 
Vestre  Haven  from  the  Ostre  Haven,  and  to  the  north 
is  the  river  called  Otteraa,  which  is  crossed  by  a  wooden 
bridge  to  Lund.  It  is  the  seat  of  one  of  the  five  bishops 
of  Norway ;  is  pretty,  big,  and  clean  ;  has  a  fine  harbour, 
from  which  regular  lines  of  steamers  run  to  England, 
Scotland,  Germany,  and  Denmark.  The  population  is 
fourteen  thousand  seven  hundred. 

Christiansand  is  the  most  important  town  in  the  south 
of  Norway,  and  from  it,  beginning  in  Tordenskjolds- 
Gade,  winds  the  long,  pleasantly  shaded  road  that  leads 
to  the  ever-fascinating  quaint  valley  of  Saetersdal. 

Through  the  mist  we  can  make  out  the  Naze  or 
Lindesniis,  a  conical  lighthouse  perched  on  a  rounded 
mass  of  rock,  seamed  and  rent  from  crest  to  base. 
Outlying  rocks  stand  among  the  breakers,  and  the  foam 
dashes  high  up  the  cliff.  In  1650  the  first  lighthouse  in 
all  Norway  was  built  on  this  cape,  the  most  southern 
land  in  the  country.  A  red-sailed  fishing-boat  is  running 
before  the  gale,  looking  wonderfully  small,  as  she  rises 
and  falls,  on  the  breaking  seas. 

Now  we  are  off  Farsund,  a  little  seaport,  almost 
destroyed  by  fire  in  1901.  After  it  comes  the  light- 
house of  Lister,  and  here  there  is  no  protection  from  the 
breeze  which,  blowing  right  along  the  indented  coast, 
raises  a  nasty  head  sea.  Ekersund,  famous  for  its  porcelain, 
goes  by,  dimly  seen  over  the  crests  of  the  rollers. 

Now  the  character  of  the  coast  is  quite  changed.. 
Instead  of  the  smooth,  round  rocks,  which  repeat  the 
same  outline  over  and  over  again,  there  are  fertile 
meadows  sloping  gently  to  the  sea  from  the  distant  hills 


OFT-PAINTED  JADEREN— STAVANGER     57 

inland.  This  is  the  land  of  Jaderen,  dotted  every- 
where with  red-roofed  cottages,  each  seeming  to  be 
perched  on  its  own  little  acre  and  never  gathered 
together  into  villages  as  in  other  lands.  Miles  inland  we 
can  see  the  snowy  peaks  of  Listermandal  and  Stavanger, 
some  peaked  like  sugar  loaves,  others  humped  like  the 
camel. 

In  that  little  inlet,  ten  hundred  and  thirty-five  years 
ago,  was  fought  the  famous  sea-battle  which  made  Harald 
Haarfagre  king  of  all  the  long,  narrow  land  of  Norway.  One 
wonders  how  many  years  it  took  him  to  travel  to  the  distant 
parts  of  his  new  kingdom.  Of  course,  the  channel  inside  the 
belt  of  islands  must  have  been  then,  as  now,  the  great  high- 
way of  the  people  of  all  ranks.  Here  the  coast  is  quite 
unprotected,  except  for  one  or  two  detached  hummocks 
standing  far  out  in  the  foam-flecked,  tumbling  waters, 
and  though  our  ship  is  both  long  and  wide,  and  is  really 
a  very  steady  ship,  the  motion  on  board  is  distinctly 
unpleasant.  The  shining  wet  decks  and  long  rows  of 
empty  chairs  look  mournful. 

It  is  curious  how  often  Norwegian  artists  paint  this 
flat  country  of  Jaderen.  One  sees  pictures  of  carts  being 
loaded  with  seaweed,  knee-deep  in  the  breakers,  of  the 
dreary  heaths  and  the  winding  country  roads.  One  artist, 
a  Mr.  Bennetter,  has  fitted  up  the  ruins  of  a  twelfth- 
century  church  and  made  it  into  a  studio.  Perhaps  one 
reason  for  the  affection  they  have  for  its  rather  tame 
beauties  is  that  it  is  so  very  unlike  any  other  part  of 
Norway. 

Stavanger  is  a  very  old  town,  but  it  has  been  burnt  so 
many  times  that  it  looks  modern.  It  is  quite  a  busy 
place,  with  a  big  fleet  of  trading  vessels.  The  cathedral 
is  the  finest  in  Norway,  after  that  of  Trondhjem.  It  was 
founded  by  an  English  bishop,  Reinald,  and  dedicated 


58        STAVANGER  CATHEDRAL— KARMO 

to  our  St.  Swithin  of  Winchester.  In  the  treatment  of 
the  interior  detail  this  church  presents  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  Knights'  Hall,  Rochester,  which  was  built 
by  Gundulph  about  the  same  time.  It  has  no  transept, 
triforium,  or  central  tower.  The  arches  are  supported 
on  great  circular  columns,  very  handsome  and  massive, 
five  on  each  side,  in  the  northern  Romanesque  style. 

The  ship  is  still  plunging  through  the  waves,  and  now 
the  passengers,  who  still  brave  the  elements,  have  dwindled 
to  a  very  small  party.  The  island  of  Karmo  comes  in 
sight  on  the  starboard  bow,  and  all  sorts  of  jagged  rocks 
go  by  as  we  plunge  northward.  A  long  journey  outside 
the  skjaergaard  is  not  a  pleasant  prospect  in  weather  like 
this,  but  all  at  once  we  notice  that  our  wake  is  no  longer 
right  astern,  but  trends  away  to  the  starboard  quarter. 
We  look  ahead  and  see  that  Karmo  is  drawing  away  to 
the  port  bow.  It  is  clear  that  kind-hearted  Captain 
Thompson  has  made  up  his  mind  to  take  us  up  inside  the 
islands.  The  sight  of  many  pale  faces,  and  all  those 
empty  chairs,  has  moved  him  to  take  the  longer,  and  to 
him,  no  doubt,  more  troublesome  route.  Soon  we  are  under 
the  lea  of  Skudesnas,  and  one  by  one  limp,  red-eyed 
bodies,  with  hair  out  of  curl  and  rumpled  clothes,  make 
their  appearance,  blessing  the  skjaergaard  and  good 
Captain  Thompson. 

Karmo  is  a  long,  low  island.  Like  the  rest  of  its 
brothers  and  sisters  of  the  skjaergaard  or  belt,  it  has  two 
aspects.  On  the  west  side  the  breakers  are  eternally 
thundering,  but  on  the  east  the  water  is  smooth,  and  the 
wooden  houses  jut  out  into  the  channel,  each  standing  on 
a  sort  of  little  terrace  built  of  the  smooth  round  boulders 
which  have  been  carried  down  from  far  inland  by  the  old 
glaciers  and  dropped  in  ridges  on  the  water's  edge.  Many 
graves  and  barrows  of  the  old  Vikings  stand  on  the 


KOPERVIK— HAUGESUND  59 

moors.  Soon  we  are  passing  a  small  red  lighthouse 
standing  alone  on  a  rocky  island,  all  covered  with  stunted 
firs.  Patches  of  green  grass  show  here  and  there  among 
the  rocky  hillocks,  and  in  the  distance  three  factory 
chimneys  rise  against  the  grey  sky ;  the  red  roofs  of  the 
little  wooden  houses  are  sprinkled  far  apart,  as  though 
in  fear  of  a  fire  spreading  from  one  to  the  other. 

According  to  our  pilot,  Kopervik  is  the  centre  of  the 
universe.  It  has  a  thousand  inhabitants,  and  a  neat 
white  church,  with  a  little  tower  at  one  end  of  the  gable ; 
the  average  death-rate  is  only  twelve  per  thousand,  so  this 
mild,  damp  climate  must  be  very  healthy. 

On  we  steam,  the  dark  green  waters  of  the  Karmosund 
forming  bays  and  inlets,  or  viks,  as  they  are  called  by  the 
natives.  Jomfru  Marias  Synaal  is  a  bautasten  26  feet 
high,  erected  in  honour  of  some  long-dead  chief.  It  leans 
towards  the  old  church  of  Augvaldsnas.  An  ancient 
prophecy  says  that  when  it  falls  this  world  will  come  to 
an  end.  Farther  up  on  the  other  side  of  the  sound  are 
five  more  upright  stones,  called  the  "Five  Foolish 
Virgins."  Haugesund  stands  on  the  mainland  a  little  to 
the  south  of  the  tombstone  of  Harald  Haarfagre,  the 
chief  who  swore  that  his  hair  should  never  be  cut  until 
he  was  king  of  all  Norway. 

In  1872  the  thousandth  anniversary  of  the  sea-fight  of 
Hafrsfjord,  an  obelisk  of  red  granite,  55  feet  high,  and 
called  Haralds-Stotte,  was  erected  in  honour  of  Norway's 
first  king.  All  around  are  smaller  stones,  representing 
the  districts  into  which  the  country  was  divided  in  old 
days.  The  port  is  quite  important,  and  the  masts  and 
yards  of  many  timber  ships  peep  over  the  rocky  hillocks 
and  green  pastures,  the  red  tiles  of  the  clustering  houses, 
or  the  steel-blue  of  the  harbour,  showing  here  and  there 
in  the  hollows, 


60  RESTLESS  WATERS 

After  this  we  come  to  an  open  bit  of  coast,  for  the 
skjaergaard  no  longer  protects  us  from  the  swell  of  the 
ocean,  which  rolls  in  long  even  waves.  We  are  glad  to 
slip  under  the  shelter  of  Bommelo,  where  a  strange  flat- 
topped  mountain,  called  Siggen,  rises  to  a  height  of  1540 
feet.  Though  its  base  is  smooth  and  ice-worn,  the  crest 
seems  sharp  cut  and  square.  I  wonder  if  the  upper  part 
of  the  peak  stood  out  of  the  glacier  in  the  old  Ice  Age, 
like  an  island  in  the  sea  of  snow,  and  thus  escaped  the 
grinding  and  polishing  that  all  the  other  hills  hereabouts 
seem  to  have  undergone.  There  are  gold  mines  on  the 
island,  though  nowadays  they  do  not  produce  much. 

Now  we  are  steaming  close  under  the  shadow  of  the 
great  hummocky-seamed  peaks.  The  snow  still  lies  in 
hollows  aloft,  and  the  grey  rock  is  hidden  here  and  there 
by  stunted  fir  and  patches  of  spare  grass.  In  the  narrow 
sloping  cliffs,  close  down  to  the  water,  are  vivid  squares  of 
green,  where  the  peasant  farmer  has  perched  upon  some 
little  patch  of  soil  smooth  enough  to  raise  a  crop  of  hay. 
The  children  rush  out  of  the  wooden  cabins  to  wave  a 
greeting.  What  a  contrast  to  the  sombre  browns  and 
greys  of  their  stony  surroundings  are  the  red  roofs  and 
white  and  yellow  fronts  of  these  scattered  homes ! 

In  between  the  countless  islands  one  catches  glimpses 
of  the  open  sea,  a  straight  hard-cut  line  dark  against  the 
brilliant  sky.  Great  breakers  are  thundering  on  the 
rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  tall  white  lighthouse,  and  in  some 
of  the  wider  inlets  the  swell  rolls  right  in  and  dashes  with 
fury  at  the  smooth  ice- worn  stones.  Sometimes  the 
strata  lines  are  tilted  up  steeply,  making  snug  harbours 
for  the  little  fishing-boats ;  or  the  bright  green  of  a  patch 
of  hay  makes  another  sudden  contrast  among  the  black 
clusters  of  rounded  hummocky  rocks.  Then  again, 
beyond  the  breakers,  we  catch  another  glimpse  of  the 


FLATHOLM  FYR  AND  HAFRSFJORD       61 

ruled  line  of  the  boundless  horizon.  All  around  for 
miles  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  smooth  rocks, 
repeating  over  and  over  again  the  form  we  have  got  to 
know  so  well.  Cold  and  grey,  seamed  here  and  there 
with  veins  of  white  quartz,  only  very  scanty  grass 
clings  in  the  hollows  and  crannies.  There  are 
thousands  of  these  rocks,  some  awash  and  covered 
with  brown  weed,  others  submerged,  and  only  marked 
by  the  higher  and  steeper  heave  of  the  swell,  and  the 
flicker  of  foam  on  the  crest,  where  it  tries  to  break 
for  a  moment  before  rolling  on  eastward  through  the 
deeper  water. 

Now  we  are  passing  a  skerry,  where  the  yeasty  waters 
are  in  violent  turmoil,  flinging  the  spray  high  into  the 
air  in  their  wild  dance.  Farther  on  is  a  black  rock 
standing  clear  above  the  surf.  A  beacon  of  stone  has 
been  built  on  it  to  distinguish  it  from  its  countless  fellow- 
rocks,  for  all  seem  to  be  made  in  the  same  mould.  As 
we  look  inland  we  see  the  hummocks  rise  ridge  behind 
ridge  until  at  last,  all  blended  with  the  clouds  and  mists 
we  can  dimly  make  out  the  forms  of  giant  mountains : 
Flatholm  Fyr  and  the  mouth  of  the  Hafrsfjord. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  WONDROUS,  BEAUTIFUL  HARDANGER 

r  I  ^HE  rocky  island  of  Utsire,  topped  by  twin,  squat 
JL  lighthouses,  stands  like  a  sentinel  12  long  miles 
from  the  mainland.  Between  it  and  Bommelo  Fjord 
lie  quite  a  little  archipelago  of  jagged,  stony  islets, 
Rover,  Lyngso,  Faeo,  and  countless  unnamed  rocks, 
over  which  the  great  ocean  swells  break,  so  that  there  is 
a  more  or  less  sheltered  channel  inside,  between  Karmo 
and  Stordo.  Here  the  passage  forks,  one  lead  running 
north  towards  Bergen^,  and  the  other  twisting  up,  and 
widening  into  the  wonderful  Hardanger  Fjord.  The 
sounds,  and  arms  of  the  sea,  stretch  in  all  directions 
right  into  the  heart  of  the  great  mountains,  and  as  we 
steam  onward  fresh  vistas  are  constantly  opening.  The 
peaks  are  rent  and  torn  in  some  places,  smooth  and 
polished  in  others,  and  there  is  always  as  a  background 
the  great  glistening  covering  of  eternal  snow,  which  is 
called  the  Folge  Fond.  This  enormous  mass  is  without 
any  distinct  peak,  and  simply  lies  like  a  great  white 
table-cloth  all  over  the  high  ground.  It  throws  off 
glaciers  wherever  a  cleft  in  the  rocks  allows  the  pushing 
mass  to  force  a  way  down  the  precipice,  where  it  hangs 
suspended,  like  a  great  breaker  frozen  in  the  act  of 
curling.  This  huge  snowfield  is  about  20  miles  long 
from  north  to  south,  and  about  10  miles  across  at  the 
widest  part. 


A  STONY  INTRUDER  63 

The  lower  waters  of  the  Hardanger,  through  a  maze 
of  twists  and  turns,  run  for  the  most  part  towards  the 
north-east.  Smaller  channels  branch  off  from  it  in  all 
directions.  Mauranger  Fjord,  with  lofty  cliffs,  pushes 
right  into  the  rocky  hills  almost  to  the  snow. 
Strandebarms  Bugt,  a  big  bay,  stretches  north.  Then 
the  fjord  narrows  to  a  mile  and  a  half  at  Ljonas  Aas, — 
again  widening  into  the  Ytre  Samlen  quite  5  miles 
across. 

Just  above  Bakke,  there  is  a  great  stretch  of  bare 
polished  rock,  which  slopes  from  a  height  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  There  is  not  a  blade  of  grass  or  a  shrub 
to  be  seen  on  it,  the  whole  has  a  very  bleak  and 
forbidding  air.  Its  smooth  surface  is  due  to  the  great 
glaciers  of  the  Ice  Age,  when  the  whole  fjord  was  choked 
with  slowly-moving  pack  ice.  Beyond  these  bare  black 
rocks,  Samle  Nut,  a  jutting  peak,  covered  with  a  forest 
of  fir  trees  from  crest  to  base,  pushes  out,  narrowing  the 
waterway  again  to  2  miles,  and  separating  the  Ytre  from 
the  Indre  Samlen. 

On  the  opposite  side  is  the  hamlet  of  Ostenso,  where 
a  great  rock  (Heaven  only  knows  how  many  tons  it 
weighs)  seems  to  have  toppled  over  from  the  mountains 
overhead,  and  has  perched  itself  right  in  the  middle 
of  a  neat  little  hayfield.  I  daresay  it  all  happened 
a  long  time  ago,  long  before  there  were  any  people 
settled  here ;  at  the  same  time,  the  great  stone  looks 
a  very  terrible  intruder,  in  the  midst  of  the  fragile 
wooden  houses  set  among  the  smiling  fields. 

Just  a  little  farther  is  the  narrow  entrance  of 
the  Fiksensund,  9  miles  long,  just  a  rent  in  the 
mountains.  As  we  steam  over  to  the  north-east  we 
come  to  where  Melaanfos  thunders  down  from  the  hills  in 
a  cloud  of  spray,  making  the  village  at  the  water's  edge 


64  THE  BARONS  OF  ROSENDAL 

seem  only  a  toy.  The  dark  firs  stretch  up  even  to 
the  clouds,  and  here  and  there  patches  of  snow  shine 
white  among  grey  rocks. 

Norway  was  not  always  a  democratic  country.  There 
were  plenty  of  earls  in  the  old  Viking  days,  and  our 
English  title  "  earl "  is  taken  from  the  Norse.  Later,  the 
great  English  preacher  Hakluyt,  in  his  navigations, 
voyages,  traffiques,  and  discoveries,  often  mentions  knights 
in  Norway,  though  it  would  be  hard  to  say  what  the 
native  equivalent  for  this  title  would  be.  Here  in 
Hardanger  there  were  Barons  of  Rosendal,  from  1678 
down  to  1821,  when  all  noble  titles  were  abolished  by 
law. 

Ludwig  the  First  was  a  Dane  of  old  family  who  came 
and  settled  in  Horland,  where  he  married  a  rich  Norwegian 
lady ;  after  which  Christian  v.  of  Denmark  created 
him  baron.  He  held  many  high  offices.  A  list  of  them 
is  still  to  be  seen  over  his  tomb  in  Kvindherred  parish 
church.  Axel,  who  was  called  "Baron  Clubfoot,"  suc- 
ceeded him ;  he  is  said  to  have  had  rather  a  poor  time 
with  his  insolent  servants.  He  fell  through  a  hole  in  the 
floor  of  his  own  house,  and  broke  his  neck  in  1723,  so 
the  title  became  extinct.  Soon  after,  the  Crown  of 
Denmark  sold  the  barony  of  Rosendal,  with  all  its 
privileges  and  charters,  to  another  Dane,  Ditten  Wibe, 
Knight  of  the  Elephant,  and  Governor  of  Norway. 
The  price  was  20,000  rix-dollars,  about  ,£4000.  When 
Ditten  Wibe  died,  Lerche  of  Lerchenfeld  bought  it  for 
18,000  rix-dollars.  In  1745  it  was  again  sold  to  Edvard 
Londeman,  a  professor  of  theology,  who  afterwards 
became  Bishop  of  Bergen.  The  King  of  Denmark  gave 
him  a  patent  for  himself  and  his  heirs,  to  bear  the  new 
title  of  Baron  de  Rosenkrone.  He  only  enjoyed  the 
honour  for  a  week,  dying,  and  being  succeeded  by  his 


THE  FOLGEFOND  65 

son,  Baron  Marchus,  who,  however,  never  lived  at  Rosendal. 
This  Baron  Marchus  was  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  at 
Copenhagen.  Major  Hoff,  who  was  a  great-grandson  of 
the  first  Baron  de  Rosenkrone,  a  native  of  Bohemia, 
came  next,  and  after  him  in  1837  Marchus  Gerhard,  his 
son.  The  title  died  with  the  older  Hoff,  and  soon  after 
the  property  lost  many  of  its  rights  and  privileges.  It 
now  pays  rates  and  taxes  just  like  any  other  part  of 
Norway. 

Before  reaching  Odde  it  is  the  Folgefond  that  attracts 
and  holds  the  attention.  This  great  field  of  snow  is  the 
second  largest  in  Norway,  covering  an  area  of  120  square 
miles.  As  we  steamed  up  the  fjord  the  daylight  was 
waning.  The  steep  sides  of  the  cliffs  had  turned  the 
deepest  purple,  and  high  above  lay  this  line  of  snow. 
Wherever  possible  it  forced  its  way  over  the  edge.  At 
first  a  wedge  of  pure  white,  which  as  it  came  down  the 
cliff  turned  into  rills  and  feathery  streaks  of  water. 
What  the  depth  is  no  one  knows,  but  from  the  nature 
of  its  surroundings  it  is  beyond  doubt  that  it  fills  an 
enormous  depression.  The  general  direction  of  this  vast 
expanse  of  eternal  snow  is  north  and  south.  It  lies  in 
the  hollow  of  a  broad  ridge,  or  plateau,  at  a  height  of 
5500  feet  above  the  sea.  The  mountains  on  which  it 
rests  rise  abruptly,  presenting  a  large  area  above 
the  snow-line.  These  receive  the  full  benefit  of  the 
moisture  of  the  south-westerly  winds  in  the  shape  of 
snow.  There  are  no  higher  mountains  anywhere  near, 
and  consequently  the  Folgefondfjeld  intercepts  the  snow- 
laden  winds,  and  prevents  an  accumulation  on  the  fjelds 
situated  to  the  eastward. 

At  the  moment  all  our  interests  were  centred  in  the 
Folgefond,  on  account  of  a  wild  freak  that  had  entered 
the  head  of  an   elderly  spinster  we   had   met  on  board 
5 


66  CROSSING  THE  FOLGEFOND 

a  little  fjord  steamer.  The  lady  was  unaccompanied, 
and  gloated  over  the  fact  that  she  had  given  her  friend 
and  the  hotel-keeper  the  slip,  saying,  "I  knew  they 
would  not  let  me  go  if  I  said  anything  about  it,  but  now 
I  am  here  I  mean  to  cross  the  Folgefond."  All  the  way 
to  Sandven  we  hunted  our  Baedeker,  and  found  out  for 
this  lady  that  the  price  for  a  guide  for  two  persons 
would  be  8  kroner.  No  price  was  quoted  for  one.  That 
the  pass  was  not  too  difficult,  and  that  riding  was 
practicable  to  the  top.  At  this  she  ejaculated,  "Ah, 
that  will  suit  me.  I  can  ride  splendidly  ;  have  done  so 
all  my  life.  What  did  you  say  the  cost  of  the  horse 
would  be  ?  "  I  again  opened  my  Baedeker  and  read  out 
12  kr. ;  that  she  would  have  to  start  from  Sundal  on  the 
Mauranger  Fjord;  that  there  was  an  hotel  there  where 
she  would  have  to  stay  the  night,  as  it  was  impossible 
to  make  the  start  that  day ;  the  hotel  stood  near  to  the 
gaard  of  Bondhus,  and  that  Samson  Olsen,  Sundal,  was 
a  competent  guide. 

Then  I  told  her  all  I  knew  and  had  read.  That,  to 
begin  with,  it  was  a  beautiful  voyage  to  Odde,  and  that 
the  scenery  as  the  Mauranger  is  approached  displays  the 
most  picturesque  grouping  of  high  mountains.  She 
would  have  to  leave  at  6  a.m.,  and  it  would  take  her 
seven  or  eight  hours  to  arrive  at  Sundal,  where  she  would 
be  in  time  for  dinner.  "I  should  not  want  to  dine,"" 
she  remarked ;  "  I  have  some  sandwiches."  "  I  dare  say,"  I 
said,  "  but  would  they  not  be  rather  dry  by  then,  or  would 
it  not  be  better  to  keep  these  provisions  for  the  Folgefond, 
as  not  so  long  ago  the  supplies  provided  by  the  hotel- 
keeper  were  not  very  good  ?  "  This  trifle  was  waved  aside, 
and  I  continued :  "  Well,  you  would  have  to  start  early 
with  a  short  trip  by  boat  to  the  head  of  the  fjord,  land 
at  Gjerde,  a  cluster  of  cottages.  Once  clear  of  the 


SUNDEFOS  67 

village  your  road  lies  through  fields  traversed  by  a  roar- 
ing torrent,  which  farther  on  breaks  over  the  rocks  in 
fine  cascades.  Then  through  a  wood,  and  you  emerge 
in  full  view  of  the  really  magnificent  Sundefos,  tumbling 
from  a  great  height,  and  throwing  up  clouds  of  spray, 
through  which  you  will  have  to  pass.  Then  you  will  find 
yourself  in  a  tremendous  amphitheatre,  the  walls  rising 
hi  front  and  on  either  side  to  a  height  of  some  two  or 
three  thousand  feet.  You  will  wish  you  had  never 
started,  but  your  guide  will  show  you  the  way  over  a 
rough  but  not  difficult  road.  I  suppose  you  can  climb  ? 
— for  the  ascent  is  very  steep,  and  you  will  have  to  rest 
constantly.  All  the  way  you  see  the  waterfall,  which 
looks  finer  and  grander  as  you  ascend.  You  next  reach 
more  level  ground,  and  look  down  upon  the  dark  gorge 
you  have  just  passed  through  to  the  spot  where  the 
Mauranger  Fjord  lies  gleaming  in  the  distance. 

"Again  another  tier  of  precipices,  with  a  faintly  indicated 
and  easily  lost  track  along  the  mountain  side  under  a 
screen  of  rock,  which  rounded  brings  you  to  the  head 
of  the  waterfall, — the  Sundefos  by  which  you  have  been 
walking  and  climbing.  At  your  feet  the  waters  that 
supply  it  rush  and  roar,  from  a  lake  at  a  little  distance, 
which  receives  the  waters  of  another  and  smaller  fall. 
This  raging  torrent  crosses  your  path,  and  I  really  do 
not  think  you  will  like  it.  There  are  only  a  few  slippery 
rocks  to  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  then  a  little  plank 
bridge  to  the  other  side,  a  narrow  little  foothold  between 
the  wall  of  rock  and  roaring  stream.  Everyone  says  it 
is  the  nastiest  bit  in  the  day's  march. 

"You  would  then  have  to  wait  a  few  minutes  whilst 
your  guide  finds  the  boat  to  cross  the  lake.  The  desolate 
valley  is  strewn  with  huge  boulders,  where,  in  a  sheltered 
corner,  stands  the  Tourist  Hut.  You  might  have  to 


68  HORSES  MANAGE  THE  CLIMB 

stay  there  the  night  should  you  be  too  tired  to  go  on. 
There  remain  a  good  thousand  feet  still  to  climb  on  a 
steep  and  rugged  road.  Creeping  up  these  bare  rocks  is 
like  mounting  the  steps  of  a  ladder,  with  an  occasional 
plateau  as  a  change. 

"  Horses  manage  this  piece  of  the  road  wonderfully  well. 
The  sturdy  little  animals  scramble  up  the  steep  slippery 
rocks  without  a  stumble.  About  this  height  you  reach 
the  snow-line,  and  have  to  cross  several  broad  patches, 
which  may  be  very  heavy  work,  according  to  whether  the 
sun  is  shining  or  not.  After  a  while  the  great  snow- 
field  begins  in  real  earnest.  It  has  a  hard  frozen  surface, 
with  here  and  there  a  slippery  piece  telling  of  the  glacier 
just  beneath.  You  walk  or  ride  on  till  you  reach  the 
half-dozen  sledges,  kept  under  the  shelter  of  a  cluster  of 
rocks  which  rise  like  islands  in  the  midst  of  the  great  sea 
of  ice  and  snow.  The  horses  are  harnessed,  and  can  pull 
but  slowly  till  they  reach  the  highest  point.  If  the 
weather  is  only  fine  and  clear  you  think  nothing  more  of 
the  climb.  You  revel  in  the  grand  and  awe-inspiring 
spaciousness,  in  the  peculiar,  solemn  silence,  which  holds 
the  air  when  the  winds  are  at  rest. 

"Around  the  margin  of  this  great  white  ocean  rises  a 
border  of  dark,  rugged  mountain  tops  of  every  shape  and 
outline.  You  can  see  nothing  of  the  fjords.  They  lie 
quietly  sleeping  at  your  feet,  deep  down  in  the  bottom  of 
the  dark  valleys.  To  the  south  lies  the  Sor  branch  of  the 
Hardanger,  and  straight  across  this  invisible  gulf  you  can 
see  the  dark  ravine  of  the  Skjaeggedal,  with  a  glimpse  of 
the  gloomy  Ringedalsvand  beyond.  Above  the  ravine 
rises  the  curious  square  top  of  the  Haarteigen,  and  away 
and  away  the  giant  peaks  of  the  Hardanger.  Having 
admired  the  prospect,  the  horses  again  start  off  at  a 
If  you  have  ever  experienced  the  pleasure  of 


ODDE,  THE  END  OF  THE  SOR  FJORD      69 

running  before  a  strong  wind  in  a  small  boat,  you  will 
recognise  the  same  sensation  as  you  spin  along  over  the 
crisp  snow,  with  a  rapidity  and  smoothness  which  constitute 
the  acme  of  locomotion.  The  wind  sings  in  your  ears  and 
the  horses'  hoofs  pelt  you  with  little  lumps  of  snow. 
This  lasts,  with  ups  and  downs,  for  an  hour  and  a  half. 

"  Down  you  slip,  stumble  and  run,  till  you  are  off  the 
snow  and  among  the  rocks  again,  some  hundred  feet 
below  the  summit  of  the  Folgefond.  Now  you  come  to  a 
monotonous  bit  of  hard  work,  and  if  the  sun  is  out  a  most 
fatiguing  one.  In  a  short  time  you  catch  sight  of  Sor 
Fjord,  and  the  road  then  follows  the  course  of  the 
Tokheimsfos.  From  its  head  to  the  fjord  level  is 
strikingly  picturesque.  At  Tokheim  you  can  enjoy  a 
rest,  or  proceed  to  Odde,  which  is  about  two  miles  off." 

Nothing  I  might  say,  however,  deterred  the  lady,  until 
in  my  room  in  the  hotel  at  Sandven  she  started  counting 
her  money.  "  I  have  just  25  kr.,"  she  remarked.  "  Then 
you  cannot  do  it,"  I  replied ; — "  even  if  you  joined  a  party 
at  Sundal  it  would  cost  you  15  kr.  Besides,  there  is  your 
fare  from  here  to  Sundal,  meals,  and  a  night's  lodgings. 
My  advice  is,  take  the  next  steamer  back  to  Eide,  fetch 
more  money,  and  tell  the  hotel-keeper  where  you  are 
going."  The  lady  replied :  "  I  will  fetch  the  money,  but 
will  not  tell  them  where  I  am  going."  It  was  with  a 
sense  of  relief  that  we  saw  her  off  on  board  the  next 
steamer  bound  for  Eide.  Weeks  after  we  had  arrived 
home  I  received  a  post-card  with  these  few  laconic  words : 
"  I  never  got  there." 

The  approach  to  Odde  was  very  beautiful  in  the  soft 
twilight.  Here  we  had  reached  the  end  of  the  Sor  Fjord, 
and  the  terminus  of  the  great  routes  from  Telemarken 
and  Stavanger  Fjord.  Lights  were  twinkling  in  the  big 
Hardanger  Hotel  that  stands  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the 


70  WATERFALLS  IN  THE  ENVIRONS  OF  ODDE 

fjord,  with  the  church,  and  a  group  of  lesser  hotels,  backed 
by  orchards  and  trees.  Odde  is  a  place  for  waterfalls; 
you  come  to  them  one  after  the  other  if  you  follow  the 
Telemarken  road.  It  is  possible  to  ride  or  walk,  but  if 
one  is  strong  enough  nothing  is  better  than  a  good  walk 
after  the  lazy  luxury  of  board-ship.  We  followed  the 
road  past  the  landing  place  of  the  Jordal  steam-boat, 
under  menacing  rocks,  and  over  debris,  enjoying  the 
brisk  air  and  the  lovely  background  of  the  Jordal, 
Buarbrae,  and  Folgefond.  Farther  on  we  came  to  the 
Kjondalsfos  and  the  Strandsfos,  descending  from  the 
Svartenut  on  the  other  side.  Here  we  sat  down  for  a 
little  to  enjoy  the  roar  of  the  falls,  and  ate  the  sandwiches 
we  had  brought  with  us.  Then  on  we  went  to  Hildal, 
where  tumbled  the  Hildalsfos.  Passing  on  to  the  bridge 
we  had  to  draw  to  one  side  to  allow  a  herd  of  goats  to 
pass.  We  had  to  walk  some  way  beyond  Gronsdal  before 
we  came  to  the  wonderful  fall  called  Lotefos,  which  unites 
its  waters  with  the  Skarsfos.  Opposite  them  is  the 
diaphanous  veil-like  Espelandsfos,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  waterfalls  in  Norway. 

Odde  is  quickly  developing  into  a  manufacturing  town, 
deriving  immense  electric  power  from  the  Ringedalsvand, 
fed  in  its  turn  by  the  truly  magnificent  fall  of  the  Skjaeg- 
gedal.  We  rowed  about  four  miles  down  the  fjord  to 
Tyssedal,  where  great  red  pipes  carry  the  water  down  the 
mountain  to  the  power  works.  It  is  a  good  walk  up  the 
new  zigzag  road  to  the  Ringedalsvand,  a  lake  1300  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  so  by  motor  launch  to  the  fall.  Such  a 
fall  too !  A  torrent  foaming  high  against  the  sky  falling 
into  a  black  basin  at  the  foot  of  an  amphitheatre  of  rock 
525  feet  below.  It  rises  again  like  a  crowd  of  tall-hooded 
wraiths,  drifts  against  the  opposite  cliff,  and  falls  once  more 
in  soft  rain  over  the  glistening  rocks  and  vivid  green  grass. 


UTNE  71 

The  much-talked-of  Sunday  costumes  we  did  not  see. 
The  long  dining-hall  of  the  Hardanger  Hotel  was  bright 
in  the  extreme.  The  maids  in  their  pretty  costumes 
waited  on  the  company  deftly  and  well;  for  these  the 
bright  ornamentally  carved  wood-work  and  painted  frieze 
of  goblins  formed  quite  the  right  setting. 

If  the  weather  be  fine  one  should  certainly  go  to  Utne. 
It  is  situated  at  the  entrance  of  the  Sor  Fjord,  which 
is  one  of  the  terminal  branches  of  the  Hardanger.  Here 
is  a  wonderful  combination  of  savage  grandeur  and 
striking  beauty.  Lofty  mountains  slope  steeply  down 
to  the  water,  thrusting  forward  sharp  promontories. 
In  between  are  sheltered  bays  with  verdant  banks  of 
gently  sloping,  cultivated  land.  Comfortable,  clean- 
looking  farms  are  dotted  here  and  there.  A  fair-haired 
farmer  told  us  many  things  about  the  beauty  of  the 
view  seen  from  the  top  of  Hanekamb,  at  whose  feet  lie 
the  Utne  Fjord,  Eid,  and  Sor  Fjords,  and  of  the  game 
that  can  be  shot  in  the  neighbourhood.  He  spoke  of 
the  chances  of  a  good  crop  this  season,  and  of  his  friends 
in  America.  He  stood  a  characteristic  figure,  the  true 
type  of  the  Scandinavian. 

Utne  was  famous  in  Saga  times  as  the  Thingsted,  or 
place  of  assembly  of  the  ancient  parliament.  It  was  then 
probably  of  more  importance  than  now.  The  government 
of  Norway  by  Things,  a  thousand  years  or  so  ago,  was 
rather  remarkable  for  these  times.  It  was  perhaps  as 
well  organised  a  system  of  local  government  as  was  then 
in  existence  anywhere  in  Europe.  There  were  several 
kinds  of  Things,  ranging  in  importance,  and  in  their 
powers.  According  to  the  Sagas,  there  were  four  principal 
Things  responsible  for  the  government  of  Norway, — 
namely,  the  Borgarthing  in  the  south,  Eidsvoldthing  in 
the  centre,  Frostathing  in  the  north  (Trondhjem),  and  the 


72  THE  THING 

Gulathing  in  the  west  (Hardanger  Fjord  and  Sogne  Fjord). 
Besides  these,  and  more  or  less  in  co-operation  with  and 
subservient  to  them,  there  were  numerous  minor  or  local 
Things,  which  were  courts  of  assize  for  small  districts. 

Konungsthing  was  a  Thing  summoned  by  the  King 
himself.  Mandrapsthing,  a  Thing  summoned  in  con- 
sequence of  a  murder;  Mantalsthing,  for  the  equalisa- 
tion of  the  tax;  and  Vapnathing,  to  examine  if  every 
man  possessed  the  weapons  prescribed  by  law.  All 
members  of  the  Thing,  according  to  law,  had  an  equal 
vote. 

The  Thing  summons  in  case  of  murder  was  an  arrow 
that  was  sent  from  farm  to  farm,  and  called  upon  all 
Thing  men  to  meet  the  fifth  day  after  the  summons.  In 
the  funny  old  regulations  this  summons  was  "  to  be  carried, 
and  not  dropped.11  It  was  to  go  "between  the  winter 
houses,  and  not  between  the  saeters.11  No  delay  was  to 
occur  in  weather  fit  for  travelling  except  at  night,  "  should 
sleep  be  necessary,  but  not  unless."  The  men  who  carried 
the  arrow  were  to  cut  three  notches  on  the  door-post  or 
door,  and  put  the  summons  over  the  lintel.  All  baendr, 
but  those  being  single-handed  workers  or  disabled,  were 
obliged  to  attend  the  summons  or  pay  a  Thing-fine.  The 
Thing  was  held  in  an  open  place  called  Thingvoll.  In 
early  days  the  site  was  near  a  temple,  and  after  the 
introduction  of  Christianity  near  a  church.  The  spot 
chosen  was  by  a  hill,  from  which  all  announcements  were 
made. 

The  Thing  plain,  according  to  Du  Chaillu,  was  a  sacred 
place,  which  must  not  be '  sullied  by  bloodshed  arising 
from  blood-feud  or  any  other  impurity,  and  the  Thing 
from  the  time  it  was  opened  until  it  was  dissolved  was, 
during  pagan  times,  under  the  protection  of  the  gods. 
Any  breach  of  the  peace  was  a  sacrilege  which  put  the 


OKSENFJELD  73 

guilty  one  out  of  the  pale  of  the  law.  Between  the 
sessions  of  the  Thing  amusements  took  place,  and  battles 
and  prowess  was  retold  by  the  scalds  assembled.  Time 
has  made  very  little  change  in  the  system ;  the  Amt, 
Fogderi,  and  Formanskab  are  merely  different  kinds  of 
Things  with  modern  names.  As  matters  stand  to-day, 
every  parish  has  its  Formanskab,  or  board  of  guardians, 
with  a  chairman.  A  certain  number  of  parishes  go  to  a 
Fogderi,  presided  over  by  a  Foged ;  and  a  certain  number 
of  Fogderis  go  to  an  Amt  or  county,  —  the  principal 
official  being  called  the  Amtmand.  The  responsible 
officials  are  the  Foged  and  his  assistants,  the  Lensmand ; 
the  latter,  one  to  each  parish,  doing  all  the  dirty  work. 
Once  a  year  the  Amtmand  meets  the  representatives  of 
the  Fogderis  and  of  the  Formanskabs  in  solemn  assembly, 
whereat  the  affairs  of  the  county  are  discussed. 

The  promontory  lying  opposite  Utne  is  known  as  the 
Oksenfjeld,  and  from  its  summit  there  is  the  most  superb 
view  imaginable.  It  is  historically  a  place  of  some  interest, 
having  been  used  in  1807  as  a  station  whence  to  signal 
the  approach  of  the  English  fleet,  which  it  was  imagined 
might  descend  on  Norway.  Even  now  one  sees  the  re- 
mains of  the  old  watch-tower,  and  not  so  long  ago  the 
pole  and  tar  barrel  which  served  for  the  warning  beacon 
were  to  be  found  close  at  hand.  This  system  of  beacon 
signals  was  adopted  in  Norway  as  far  back  as  the  time  of 
Haakon  i.  It  was  calculated  that  within  a  week  the  news 
of  an  enemy's  approach  could  be  transmitted  by  means  of 
beacons  from  one  end  of  the  kingdom  to  another.  The 
Government  proclamation  relating  to  the  outbreak  of 
hostilities  between  Denmark  and  England  in  1807,  and 
the  orders  on  the  subject  of  the  Oksen  beacon,  are  still 
in  existence. 

The  instructions  to  Lensmand  Christen  Jonsen  Hangse 


74  KING  UTNE'S  RUNIC  STONE 

are  of  considerable  length,  and  lay  down  minute  details 
as  to  the  methods  to  be  adopted  in  the  event  of  an 
English  fleet  appearing  in  the  Hardanger.  Thus  two 
watchmen  were  to  look  out  from  Oksenfjeld  day  and 
night.  If  any  other  beacon  was  seen  alight,  or  any 
hostile  vessels  observed,  the  tar  barrel  was  to  be  at  once 
fired,  and  news  of  what  had  been  seen  immediately 
despatched.  Express  boats  and  land  conveyances  were 
to  be  kept  constantly  in  readiness  to  take  the  news  to 
Bergen.  The  Lensmand  was  also  instructed  to  arrest 
all  Englishmen  in  his  district,  and  to  take  possession  of 
their  property.  As  matters  turned  out,  the  beacon  was 
never  lighted. 

Overhanging  the  fjord,  above  the  farm  of  Tjoflat  on 
the  Oksen  headland,  can  be  seen  a  very  remarkable 
boulder,  which  the  natives  of  these  parts  call  Runahedlo 
(runic  stone).  According  to  the  legend,  Utkjel,  petty 
King  of  Utne,  once  visited  the  spot  and  placed  a  runic 
inscription  on  the  stone  which  ran  thus :  "  Turn  me 
round,  and  thou  shalt  see  a  wonderful  thing;  but  ill 
befall  thee  if  thou  pulst  me  not  back  as  thou  foundst 
me."  Age  and  the  elements  have  unfortunately  ob- 
literated the  inscription,  and  now  only  a  few  strokes 
are  to  be  seen.  As  to  how  it  got  into  its  extraordinary 
position,  some  say  that  "God  Himself  placed  it  there 
when  He  created  the  world"";  and  others,  that  it  was 
brought  to  the  spot  by  the  Deluge.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  is  a  very  good  example  of  an  erratic  perched  block, 
resulting  from  the  great  ice  sheet  which  once  covered  the 
land." 

The  Graven  Fjord,  the  fjord  down  from  Eide,  runs 
straight  for  some  way  and  quite  narrow,  with  mountains 
on  either  side,  Eide  resting,  so  to  speak,  in  a  cul-de-sac 
with  a  semicircle  of  mountains  behind.  As  we  steam 


•II 


DELIGHTFUL  NORHEIMSUND  75 

away,  snow-capped  peaks  top  the  nearer  ranges,  till  Eide 
disappears  from  sight,  shut  out  by  first  one  bluff  and  then 
another.  The  next  panorama  opens  out,  a  lovely  circle 
of  bald  peaks,  snow-capped,  and  with  long  narrow  strips 
of  snow  running  down  their  steep  faces, — a  spot  where 
four  fjords  meet  the  mouths  winding  away,  each  with 
its  own  rock  formation.  Then  come  two  wooded  islands, 
with  an  opening  between,  through  which  one  seems  to 
enter  fairyland.  Wonderful  peeps  of  blue  water  and 
hazy  distance,  lovely  delicate  colouring,  —  a  perfect 
feast  for  the  eyes. 

The  steamer  stops  at  a  little  quay  where  the  whole  town 
is  assembled,  the  one  event  of  the  day  being  the  arrival  of 
the  steamer  with  the  news  of  the  world.  Then  on  again, 
sharply  to  the  right  between  wooded  hills  with  a  few 
stretches  of  sweet  grass  meadow  running  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  Farms  closer  together,  with  neat  houses 
and  fair  sized  patches  of  tilled  ground,  increase  in 
importance  and  size,  till  again  the  steamer  stops  at 
Norheimsund.  This  is  a  delightful  sound  that  branches 
off  from  the  Ytre  Samlen  towards  the  west,  into  a 
lovely  placid  lake  from  which  the  hills  rise  gently  clothed 
to  the  top  with  trees. 

The  hotel-keeper,  Mr.  Sandven,  receives  you  on  the 
quay,  greeting  all  in  a  courtly  fashion ;  and  the  hotel 
porter,  who  might  be  English  if  it  were  not  for  his 
American  accent,  comes  forward  and  takes  you  at  once 
into  his  charge.  Nothing  is  too  much  trouble ;  all  is  done 
without  officiousness,  and  you  are  introduced  to  one  of  the 
most  comfortable  hotels  in  Norway. 

Over  and  over  again  the  words  "  beautiful,  wondrous 
Hardanger"  repeat  themselves.  Here  from  the  balcony 
the  Norheimsund  stretches  away,  a  placid,  beautiful  opal 
lake,  a  looking-glass  in  which  the  heavens  reflect  their 


76  MUSICAL  SURROUNDINGS 

tender  colours,  the  islets,  the  cottages,  the  green  of  the 
banks,  boat-houses  and  fairy  boats.  In  the  distance 
scarred  peaks  thrust  themselves  out  sharply  from  the 
covering  of  snow  which  lies  in  the  deep  ravines  and 
fissures,  floating  mists  catch  the  rays  of  sun  and  reflect 
back  the  tender  shades  of  pink.  Above  all,  the  great 
snow  tableland  of  the  Folgefond, — great,  smooth,  round- 
backed  waves  of  pure  thick  snow  stretching  for  miles, 
shining  and  shimmering  all  aglow  in  the  rosy  evening 
light.  A  boat  pushes  off  from  the  hotel  jetty  with  a 
lady,  taking  her  two  small  children  for  a  row  before  bed- 
time. Her  scarlet  sunshade,  their  faces,  oars,  boat,  and 
every  small  detail  are  mirrored  in  the  placid  water. 
Other  merry  parties  put  off,  their  laughter  and  prattle 
rising  to  our  level  in  the  still  air.  A  band  of  boys  come 
down  to  bathe,  and  warm  ponies  just  back  from  a  long 
excursion  are  brought  down  for  a  swim  round  the 
causeway. 

Being  quite  sure  that  surroundings  such  as  these  must 
inspire  music,  we  went  down  to  the  hall  porter  and, 
questioning  him,  found  out  there  were  two  fiddlers 
belonging  to  the  place,  one  near  at  hand,  a  cobbler.  Dis- 
appointment met  us  at  the  outset.  The  cobbler  would 
willingly  have  played,  but  his  fiddle  was  broken.  The 
other  was  a  young  fellow  who  lived  some  way  down  the 
valley,  "  He  might  play  perhaps."  The  porter  wrote  on  a 
piece  of  pink  paper  in  Norwegian  that  we  were  a  lady 
and  gentleman  who  much  wished  to  hear  the  wedding 
tunes  on  the  Hardanger  violin,  and  would  he  oblige  us 
by  playing?  Thus  armed  we  started  on  our  quest  with 
our  pink  paper  and  careful  directions,  which  were : 
"  Follow  the  main  road  along  the  river  until  you  come  to 
a  white  house  that  stands  back  on  the  road  on  the  left- 
hand  side,  in  its  own  fields  close  to  the  waterfall.11 


HUNT  THE  FIDDLER  77 

The  walk  along  the  hard,  sandy  road  was  delightful, 
the  river  rushing  swiftly,  making  a  great  fuss  as  it  swirled 
round  and  over  the  boulders  that  strewed  its  bed.  Broad 
stretches  of  grain  fields  glowed  an  intense  dark  green, 
the  shade  so  difficult  to  paint  or  describe,  grass  with  a  red 
glow  over  all.  Though  nearly  nine  o'clock,  the  men  and 
women  were  still  hanging  the  cut  grass  on  the  hurdles. 
It  did  not  seem  easy  to  find  one  particular  white  house, 
there  were  so  many  little  white  houses ;  the  question  was, 
which  was  the  one  ?  Seeing  a  stolid  looking  lady  walking 
ahead,  we  quickened  our  pace  and,  overtaking  her, 
presented  the  little  piece  of  paper.  She  puzzled  over, 
read  it,  and  looked  up  once  or  twice  with  a  little  grin ; 
rubbed  her  hand  softly  over  the  top  of  her  shawled  head, 
looked  at  us,  laughed,  shook  her  head,  and  went  on  her 
way. 

We  felt  very  like  Henny-penny  in  the  story  of  "  The 
sky  is  falling  and  I'm  going  to  tell  the  king.11  Like  her,  we 
gaed  and  we  gaed  and  we  gaed,  till  we  came  to  two 
men  by  the  roadside.  The  younger  looking  the  more 
intelligent,  we  gave  our  paper  to  him ;  he  shook  his  head. 
Reading  over  the  younger  man's  shoulder,  the  second 
read  it  once,  then  again.  His  face  lit  up,  and  he  pointed 
to  a  white  house  lying  well  back  from  the  road  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill. 

Taking  a  short  cut  across  the  grass  we  arrived  at  a 
farm  or  gaard  of  some  size,  but  with  no  appearance  of  life 
in  it.  On  opening  one  or  two  doors  we  only  looked  into 
storerooms,  so  circumnavigating  the  house  we  knocked 
and  knocked  again,  and  were  just  leaving  when  we  heard 
the  shuffling  of  feet,  and  a  sleepy  looking  woman  opened 
to  us.  The  little  piece  of  paper  she  turned  over  and 
over  again.  I  tried  to  explain  by  taking  the  attitude  of  a 
fiddler ;  but  it  was  all  of  no  use.  She  thrust  the  paper 


78  STREPHON 

into  my  hand,  and  slowly  but  firmly  shut  the  door  in  our 
faces.  A  friendly  pet  lamb  gamboled  round,  and  seemed 
to  be  the  only  living  thing  about  the  place. 

Feeling  abashed  and  disappointed,  we  slowly  turned 
from  the  door,  but  surely  there  should  be  some  of  the 
inmates  at  work  in  the  fields.  It  was  worth  while  to  try 
a  little  longer;  so  following  a  grassy  road  we  walked 
farther  afield  till  the  sound  of  voices  reached  our  ears. 
Sure  enough,  above  us  were  three  figures,  a  girl  in  the 
pretty  Hardanger  costume  turning  the  hay  on  the 
hurdles,  and  two  men  scything  the  grass  down  the  slope. 
The  girl  was  like  the  old  woman,  shook  her  head,  and 
would  not  even  look  at  the  paper.  The  men  were 
different.  The  one  I  approached  was  like  the  figure  in 
Walker's  picture  of  "  The  Harbour  of  Refuge," — a  very 
"  Strephon " ;  the  other,  a  younger  man  with  a  broad, 
jovial  face.  "  Strephon"  took  the  paper  and  read  slowly, 
with  rising  colour,  a  smile  creeping  over  his  face;  the 
other  read  over  his  shoulder  and  looked  up  at  us  all 
excitement,  nodding  his  head  and  tapping  his  brother 
with  his  finger. 

I  touched  his  arm  and  imitated  a  violin  player. 
Strephon  nodded  his  head,  put  down  his  scythe,  and 
made  a  sign  that  he  would  come  with  us.  He  pointed 
out  that  his  thumb  was  bound  up,  and  made  us  under- 
stand his  hands  were  stiff  from  work.  Returning  to 
the  white  house,  he  ushered  us  into  a  room,  and  made 
a  sign  that  we  should  sit  down  whilst  he  went  to  wash 
his  hands.  The  room  was  very  tidy,  a  bed  in  the 
corner,  chairs,  and  a  table  in  the  middle,  on  which  rested 
the  violin-case.  All  round  the  walls  were  hung  with 
male  and  female  garments,  apparently  the  "  best  clothes  " 
of  the  family.  Nearly  all  the  women's  petticoats  were 
trimmed  with  bands  of  plaid  round  the  edge  of  the 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  OLE  HAUGEN         79 

skirts,  and  the  hem  bound  with  velvet.  On  the  floor  under 
each  group  of  clothes  were  gaudily  painted  wooden 
boxes  with  scrolls  on  which  were  written  the  owner's 
name  and  a  date. 

Strephon  entered  with  the  lamb  gamboling  at  his 
heels,  which  had  to  be  pushed  out  and  shut  in  another 
room.  Then  he  opened  the  case  as  though  it  were 
something  sacred,  unfolded  a  large  silk  handkerchief,  and 
earefully  drew  out  his  violin.  He  tuned  it  up,  threw 
his  head  back,  and  after  the  manner  of  Ole  Bull  placed 
his  violin  low  down  against  his  chest,  and  closing  his  eyes 
he  deftly  began  to  play,  his  thin  nostrils  dilating  and 
his  throat  swelling  as  the  music  went  quicker  and 
quicker.  Like  the  fiddler  in  Bjornson's  "  Bridal  March," 
his  tunes  might  have  been  inspired  by  the  Trolls.  Some 
were  weird,  others  tender;  some  that  made  one's  feet 
dance,  and  others  so  like  the  pipes  (drone  and  all)  that 
it  was  difficult  to  realise  that  the  instrument  was  a 
violin.  He  might  have  been  a  descendant  of  "Ole 
Haugen,"  who  lived  at  the  great  farm  of  Tingvold,  and 
played  the  merriest  Bridal  March  ever  heard. 

The  youth  stood  still  in  the  darkening  room  unconscious 
of  all  save  his  music,  without  a  coat  or  collar,  hi  his 
everyday  check  shirt  and  old  turned-down  straw.  But 
his  was  music  pure  and  simple.  Nothing  written,  but 
all  inspired,  the  tunes  that  had  been  handed  down  from 
his  father  before  him,  and  the  Trolls.  Very  fine  he  looked 
in  the  darkening  room,  playing  with  all  his  soul,  his  music 
accompanied  by  the  distant  roar  of  the  great  waterfall. 

He  ended  with  a  sigh,  laid  down  the  violin  he  had  been 
playing  on,  and  brought  out  an  old  favourite  on  which  he 
played  for  a  short  time  longer.  Then  he  unlocked  one 
of  the  painted  boxes  and  found  a  paper  which  he  passed 
us  to  read.  It  was  a  certificate,  dated  18th  February 


80  THE  HARDANGER  VIOLIN 

1906,  from  the  school  of  music  in  Bergen,  stating  that 
the  holder,  Sjuer  Gvothus,  had  won  the  first  prize  and  a 
violin  in  a  competition  for  all  Norway  for  playing  folk 
music.  The  violin  was  a  pretty  one,  inlaid  thickly  with 
mother  of  pearl,  and  the  handle  finished  off  with  a  lion^s 
head  in  ormolu. 

It  would  be  as  well  to  say  here  that  the  Norwegian 
peasant  fiddlers  have  never  used  notes ;  they  play  entirely 
"by  heart"  in  more  than  one  sense,  and  in  another 
respect  the  peasant  fiddlers  have  anticipated  the  latest 
stages  of  modern  virtuosity.  The  players  of  the  old 
Norwegian  fele,  or  fiddle,  have  three  different  ways  of 
tuning  it :  a — d — a1 — e2  ;  a — c1 — a1 — c2 ;  a — el — a1 — e 
sharp  2.  Nor  is  this  all,  when  Richard  Strauss  or  a  Martin 
Laeffler  wants  to  give  his  orchestral  score  an  ultra-modern 
colouring  he  introduces  the  viola  cTamore,  which  has, 
besides  the  strings  that  are  played  on,  an  equal  number 
placed  below  them,  which  vibrate  sympathetically  and 
enrich  the  tone.  The  Norwegian  fele  has  four  of  these 
sympathetic  strings.  A  drone  bass  of  two  tones  a  fifth 
apart  accompanies  the  fele  player's  melody.  It  is  the 
earliest  form  of  the  organ  point,  with  which  the  great 
masters  from  Bach  to  Wagner  have  produced  some  of 
their  grandest  effects.  This  drone  bass  is  a  characteristic 
of  northern  instruments,  and  resembles  the  Scotch 
bagpipe. 

A  cordial  handshake  and  we  parted  from  our  friend, 
and  retraced  our  steps  along  the  road.  The  air  had  got 
chilly  and  the  night  a  pearly  grey,  as  though  one  was 
looking  at  the  landscape  through  a  thick  gauze  veil.  The 
wind  blew  the  cold  spray  from  the  waterfall  across  the 
road  into  our  faces,  but  through  all  the  various  sounds 
of  nature  over  and  over  again  rang  the  fiddler's  tune. 

Our      Strephon      may     have     been      a     descendant 


MEDAAS— ISAK  NILSON,  OF  BOTNEN       81 

of  Medaas,  who  in  his  day  was  the  finest  musician  in  the 
Hardanger,  according  to  all  accounts,  and  whose  services 
were  much  in  request  for  weddings.  It  is  told  that  on 
one  occasion,  when  he  was  returning  from  a  wedding 
in  Kvam  to  his  home  at  Graven,  as  he  crossed  the 
mountains  after  dark  he  heard  beautiful  music  issuing 
from  a  mound,  so  he  sat  down  and  listened.  He  soon 
became  aware  that  what  he  heard  was  no  ordinary  music, 
but  that  of  the  hill-fairies,  whose  powers  of  fiddling  were 
well  known.  He  sat  on  until  he  was  satisfied  that  several 
of  the  airs  were  impressed  on  his  memory,  and  from 
that  time  his  fortune  was  made.  Not  only  had  he 
always  more  engagements  than  he  could  fulfil,  but 
fiddlers  came  from  far  and  near  to  be  instructed  in 
the  Huldreslaater,  which  to  this  day  are  regarded  as 
the  most  beautiful  airs  of  the  Hardanger. 

Isak  Nilson,  of  Botnen,  is  the  father  of  Hardanger 
violins,  known  throughout  Norway  for  their  excellence. 
Isak  Nilson  lived  rather  more  than  two  centuries  ago 
on  the  farm  of  Botnen,  at  the  head  of  the  Fiksensund, 
and  he  is  said  to  have  invented  this  popular  Hardanger 
musical  instrument.  According  to  the  story,  he  got 
his  idea  from  the  old  schoolmaster,  who  used  to  amuse 
himself  by  cutting  bits  of  wood  and  tying  strings  across 
them,  so  as  to  produce  sounds  when  touched ;  but  it  is 
more  than  likely  that  some  traveller,  at  one  time  or 
another,  showed  him  a  violin,  which  he  proceeded  to 
copy. 

Sandven's  Hotel  is  most  comfortable,  charmingly 
situated,  and  far  too  good  to  stay  for  only  a  day. 
Weeks  could  be  spent  there  quite  happily.  Mr.  Sandven 
is  not  only  an  hotel-keeper, — he  manages  the  bank,  the 
post-office,  a  shop,  and  is  the  proprietor  of  carriages 
and  boats.  A  glowing  morning  and  the  stolkjaerre  waiting 


82       THE  OFSTHUS  FOS  IN  SUNLIGHT 

at  the  door.  The  Ofsthus  Fos  was  the  thing  to  see 
in  sunlight,  so  the  small  boy  said  as  he  mounted  into 
his  perch  at  the  back  of  the  car,  and  then  we  could 
go  on  up  the  new  road  to  Torenut.  A  pity  it  was 
we  were  not  staying  longer. 

The  pony  took  a  deal  of  talking  to  and  coaxing ;  it 
did  not  mind  going  as  far  as  the  waterfall,  but  then 
it  quite  made  up  its  mind  that  it  would  rather  go  back- 
wards than  forwards,  obliging  our  young  driver  to  jump 
down  and  break  a  stick  from  a  tree  hard  by.  "  Not  to 
whip  him  with,"  he  explained,  "but  just  to  let  him 
know  it  was  there."  Crossing  the  bridge  we  jumped 
from  the  car  to  walk  up  a  steep  incline  to  the  small 
house  that  guarded  the  path  under  the  waterfall,  paid 
our  toll,  passed  on  to  the  wooden  planks,  and  stood  close 
to  the  dripping  rock  that  jutted  overhead. 

With  a  thundering  roar  the  great  volume  of  water 
threw  itself  over  the  projection  to  the  rocks  a  hundred 
feet  below,  a  bewildering  stream  of  sparkling  threaded 
diamonds,  in  a  haze  of  diamond  dust,  and  little  lumps 
like  feathery  cotton  wool  of  massed  drops.  On  either 
side  against  the  grass  on  the  edges  the  spray  turned 
into  rainbows  of  the  loveliest  hue,  and  under  the  torrent, 
their  leaves  shivering  and  quaking  from  the  wind  caused 
by  the  rushing  water,  grew  graceful  ferns.  Spellbound 
we  gazed,  agreeing  with  the  small  boy  that  the  Fos  was 
the  thing  to  be  seen  in  sunlight. 

The  pony  was  shown  the  stick,  and  thought  better 
of  his  first  resolve  to  return  home ;  but  his  own  way 
was  the  only  one  he  would  follow.  He  would  trot  when  he 
pleased,  or  walk  when  he  pleased,  and  as  there  was  no 
hurry,  what  mattered  it  ?  The  day  was  lovely,  the  river 
flowed  along  an  impetuous  torrent,  the  sides  getting 
more  precipitous  as  the  road  ascended.  Such  a  road, 


AN  UNINTERRUPTED  VIEW  OF  THE  RIVER  83 

too,  clean,  trim,  and  raked,  protected  all  along  the  face 
of  the  precipice  by  big  blocks  of  stone.  Higher  and 
higher  on  the  inner  side  rose  the  cliff  out  of  whose 
face  the  road  had  been  blasted.  At  first  the  bank 
had  been  clothed  with  bushes,  and  lovely  crimson  fox- 
glove, swaying  gracefully  in  the  breezes.  But  as  the 
rock  became  steeper  the  birch  and  firs  were  the  only 
things  that  could  cling  to  its  sides,  with  an  undergrowth 
of  fern.  A  donkey  passing,  our  pony  disapproved  and 
backed  to  the  edge,  giving  one  an  uninterrupted 
view  of  the  river,  which  now  looked  like  a  ribbon  below. 
Another  stolkjaerre  and  two  men,  a  road-maker  sprinkling 
and  raking  fine  gravel ;  these  were  all  we  saw  on  three 
miles  of  beautifully  kept  expensive  road.  Proceeding 
still  higher  the  road  grew  steeper,  and  the  river  turned 
into  cascades,  one  above  the  other,  till  we  reached  the 
top,  where  the  water  brimmed  over  the  edge  of  a 
beautiful  calm  blue  lake,  with  cattle  standing  knee 
deep  along  the  edges.  Lush  meadow  grass  waved  all 
round,  and  the  roof  of  the  little  saeter  was  just  seen 
above  the  bushes.  This  col  proved  to  be  a  verdant 
plain  surrounded  with  snow-capped  peaks. 


CHAPTER  VI 
-  NATIONAL  DANCES— THE  BATTLE  OF  SVOLDR 

THE  remoteness  of  Norway  has  not  only  impressed  a 
peculiar  local  colour  on  its  native  music  and  costume, 
but  has  also  helped  to  preserve  its  primitive  character. 
Old-fashioned  musical  instruments,  dances,  and  tunes, 
which  used  to  be  practised  in  other  European  places, 
found  their  last  refuge  in  the  North,  which  preserved 
them,  somewhat  altered  by  the  imprint  of  its  own 
peculiar  stamp.  In  a  region  like  Telemarken  there  are 
places  where  an  old  custom  prescribes  that  the  same  song 
must  not  be  sung  in  the  dance  rooms  more  than  once  a 
year. 

In  Hammerfest,  the  northernmost  town  in  the  world, 
it  is  possible  to  chance  on  a  dance  where  the  music  is 
vocal  instead  of  instrumental,  the  dancers  attentive  and 
responsive  to  the  words  as  they  are  sung.  At  weddings, 
indeed,  the  first  dances  are  sung  to  psalm  tunes,  and  the 
preacher  in  his  vestments  takes  part  in  them.  Usually, 
however,  the  dances  are  too  lively  for  vocal  music,  and  the 
fiddle  is  brought  into  play. 

The  most  popular  of  the  folk-dances  in  the  mountainous 
regions  of  Norway  are  the  springdans,  polska,  and  the 
hailing.  Of  each  of  these  there  are  admirable  specimens 
among  Grieg's  works,  partly  borrowed,  partly  original, 
while  others  have  been  arranged  for  pianoforte  by  Kjerulf, 
Lindemann,  etc.  The  springdans,  so  called  to  distinguish 


THE    BACHELOR 
BY    K.   KAGEKI.IN 


THE  POLSKA  85 

it  from  the  ganger,  or  walking  dance,  is  in  three-four 
measure,  the  hailing  in  two-four.  The  springdans  is 
characterised  by  a  striking  combination  of  binary  and 
ternary  rhythms,  and  a  progressive  animation  very 
exciting  to  the  hearer. 

Here  is  a  good  description  of  the  polska  as  seen  danced 
by  a  belated  traveller  who  was  on  his  way  to  Justedal's 
glaciers.  "The  track  followed  the  river,  winding  up 
a  deep  narrow  gorge  between  enormous  rocky  hills.  Here 
and  there  was  a  stony  plain,  the  debris  of  a  glacier  over- 
grown with  trees;  but  distant  views  there  were  none. 
I  had  to  walk  hard  to  save  daylight.  At  the  end  of 
twelve  long  miles  by  pedometer  I  found  myself  at  a  farm, 
and  as  I  walked  up  I  heard  a  fiddle.  I  thought  that 
promised  fun,  so  walked  in  and  asked  for  quarters.  I 
found  four  or  five  tall  strapping  young  fellows,  the  best 
grown  men  I  have  seen  in  Norway,  and  a  girl  to  match, 
sitting  about  a  long  table  listening  to  the  music.  ...  It 
was  dark  outside,  but  a  bright  fire  and  a  single  candle 
lit  up  the  wild  unkept  heads  nodding  to  the  music.  I 
asked  for  old  Norsk  ditties,  and  got  several.  Presently 
a  vast  supper  of  porridge  was  produced,  and  the  fiddle 
paused  while  I  smoked  my  pipe. 

"  Supper  over,  the  fiddle  began  again.  Presently  one  of 
the  young  giants  in  leather  breeches  sprang  on  the  floor, 
seized  the  giantess  who  made  the  porridge,  and  began 
a  polska.  He  trotted  round  the  room,  holding  her  hand, 
while  she  toddled  after  him.  Presently  the  girl  was  spun 
round  and  round  like  a  teetotum,  showing  such  powerful 
understanding  that  I  marvelled ;  and  then  she  was  seized 
round  the  waist,  and  they  both  twirled  together.  Then 
they  ambled  about  as  before,  then  they  had  another 
fit  of  spinning  till  they  were  tired ;  and  then  another 
giant  took  the  floor  alone,  and  performed  the  hailing 


86  THE  HALLING  DANCE 

dance  which  no  one  has  described  so  well  as  Bjornson  in 
his  story  entitled  Arne  as  follows.  The  music  began,  deep 
silence  prevailed,  and  Nils  got  ready  for  the  dance.  Airily 
he  moved  over  the  floor,  marched  in  time  with  the  musjc, 
his  body  half  bent  forward  and  reaching  to  right  and 
left ;  now  and  then  he  crossed  his  legs,  stood  up  straight 
again,  assuming  the  attitude  of  a  thrower,  and  then 
marched  as  at  first,  bent  over.  The  fiddle  was  played 
with  a  sure  hand,  the  melody  became  gradually  faster  and 
more  fiery.  Nils  inclined  his  head  more  and  more  back- 
wards, and  all  at  once  he  hit  the  cross-plank  of  the  ceiling 
with  his  foot,  so  hard  that  dust  and  whitewash  fell  on  the 
spectators.  Everybody  laughed  and  shouted,  and  the 
girls  stood  as  if  they  were  breathless.  Noisily  the  fiddler 
played  on  and  on,  with  more  and  more  fiery  and  challeng- 
ing strains.  Nils  could  not  resist  them  ;  he  bowed  forward, 
jumped  about  in  measure,  stood  up  straight,  assumed  the 
attitude  of  a  thrower,  to  fool  them,  then  again  crossed 
his  legs  under  him,  and  suddenly,  when  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  no  thought  of  jumping,  he  hit  the  plank  of  the 
ceiling  a  resounding  blow  with  his  foot,  again  and  again, 
then  threw  somersaults  in  the  air,  forward  and  backward, 
standing  straight  as  a  candle  on  his  feet  after  each.  He 
had  all  he  wanted.  The  fiddle  played  a  few  more  bars 
in  rapid  time,  laboured  with  tones  that  became  lower  and 
lower,  until  the  dance  music  died  out  in  a  long-sustained 
bass  note.11 

Our  ship  is  thrashing  her  way  westward  against  a 
strong  breeze  which  sends  the  long  rollers  tumbling  up 
the  Skagerak.  As  we  plunge  through  the  foam  the  rocky 
coast  slips  ever  by,  like  a  mighty  panorama  slowly 
unrolling  before  our  sight,  the  smoothly  rounded  rocks  are 
broken  now  and  then  by  chasms  which  stretch  far  into 
the  heart  of  the  sterile  country.  Detached  rocks,  some  of 


A  PANACEA  FOR  MAL-DE-MER  87 

them  marked  with  black  or  white  beacons,  stand  far  out 
among  the  waves.  In  the  old  days  these  winding  water- 
ways which  pierce  deep  into  the  fastnesses  of  granite  and 
slate  were  the  homes  of  many  a  marauding  Viking,  and  one 
can  in  fancy  picture  Sigmund  pushing  off  in  the  dragon 
ship  that  Olaf  Tryggvason  gave  him  to  win  westward  to 
the  Faereys,  and  bring  home  the  warlock  Thrond. 

"The  sea  waves  turned  like  fire  to  see, 
But  Sigmund  never  a  whit  cared  he. 

Sigmund  seaward  his  course  will  keep, 

And  the  ship  she  was  well-nigh  sunk  in  the  deep. 

The  waves  they  broke  in  the  race  so  hard, 
But  Sigmund  was  not  a  whit  afeard. 

Sigmund  up  Swiney  firth  he  stood, 

The  strakes  they  buckled  like  hoops  of  wood. 

The  strakes  they  buckled  like  hoops  of  wood, 
The  iron  grew  black  as  the  black  peat  sod." 

I  have  found  that  it  is  largely  an  unoccupied  mind 
that  brings  on  mal-de-mer,  and  not  wishing  to  succumb 
at  this  juncture  I  dived  into  my  cabin  for  my  book  of 
Sagas,  and  making  myself  comfortable  on  the  sofa  of 
the  music  room  on  deck  I  closed  my  mind  on  the 
turmoil  without,  and  turned  the  page  to  my  favourite 
Fornmanna  Sogur,  the  Battle  of  Svoldr,  and  Olaf  Tryg- 
gvason, the  brave  hero  who  in  the  story  lost  his  life  on 
his  way  home  to  Norway. 

"  Svein,  King  of  Denmark,  Olaf,  King  of  Sweden,  and 
Eirik  Jarl  lay  under  the  island  with  all  their  host.  The 
weather  was  fine  and  the  sunshine  was  bright.  All  the 
chiefs  went  up  on  the  island,  and  many  of  the  host  with 
them.  When  they  saw  that  very  many  of  the  ships  of 


88  AWAITING  OLAFS  SHIP 

the  Northmen  sailed  out  to  sea  they  were  very  glad,  for 
their  host  grumbled  at  lying  there  so  long,  and  some 
had  lost  all  hope  of  the  King  of  Norway's  coming. 
Now  they  saw  a  large  and  splendid  ship  sailing,  and 
both  the  Kings  said :  '  This  is  a  large  and  exceedingly 
fine  ship ;  it  must  be  the  Long  Serpent?  Eirik  Jarl 
answered:  'This  is  not  the  Lang  Serpent,  which  must 
look  larger  and  grander,  though  this  is  a  large  and  fine 
ship.'  It  was  as  the  Jarl  said,  Styrkar  of  Gimsar  owned 
the  ship. 

"Shortly  after  they  saw  another  much  larger  ship, 
which  had  a  head  on  its  prow.  King  Svein  said :  '  This 
must  be  the  Long  Serpent ;  let  us  now  go  to  our  ships, 
and  not  be  too  slow  in  attack.'  Eirik  Jarl  replied : 
'This  cannot  be  the  Long  Serpent,  though  it  is  finely 
fitted  out.1  It  was  as  he  said,  for  it  belonged  to 
Thorkel  Nefja,  King  Olafs  brother;  but  he  was  not  on 
board  himself. 

"  And  now  they  saw  another  large  and  fine  ship.  King 
Svein  said :  '  There  you  can  see  the  King's  ship.'  The 
jarl  replied:  'Certainly  this  is  a  large  and  splendid 
ship,  but  the  Serpent  must  be  much  grander.'  Close 
upon  it  came  a  fourth  large  ship.  The  two  last  were 
owned  by  two  men  of  Vikin,  Thorgeir,  and  Hyrning, 
the  King's  brothers-in-law ;  but  they  did  not  steer  the 
ships,  for  they  were  in  the  Long  Serpent  with  King 
Olaf. 

"A  little  while  after  appeared  a  fifth,  much  larger 
than  any  of  the  preceding.  King  Svein  said,  laughing : 
'Now  is  Olaf  Tryggvason  afraid,  for  he  dares  not  sail 
with  the  head  on  his  dragon.'  Eirik  Jarl  replied :  '  This 
is  not  the  King's  ship ;  this  one  I  know  well,  as  well  as 
the  sail  which  is  striped :  it  belongs  to  Erling  Skjalgsson, 
of  Jadar ;  let  them  sail  on,  for  I  tell  you  truly  that  there 


ANGER  OF  EIRIK  JARL  89 

are  warriors  on  board  whom,  if  we  go  into  battle  with 
Olaf  Tryggvason,  it  is  better  not  to  have,  but  to  miss 
in  his  fleet,  than  to  have  it  manned  as  it  is,  for  I  think 
Erling  himself  steers  it/ 

"  It  was  not  long  after  these  five  large  ships  and  all  the 
small  ones  of  the  fleet  had  sailed  past  them  that  they 
recognised  Sigvaldi  Jarl's  ships,  which  turned  in  towards 
the  island.  They  saw  there  three  ships,  and  one  of 
these  was  a  large  head  ship  (i.e.  a  ship  having  a  head  on 
the  stem).  Then  said  King  Svein :  '  Let  us  now  go  to 
the  ships,  for  here  comes  the  Long-  Serpent."1  Eirik  Jarl 
answered :  '  Many  large  and  splendid  ships  have  they 
besides  the  Long-  Serpent,  but  few  have  yet  sailed  past ; 
let  us  still  wait.'  Then  many  said :  '  Now  we  may  see 
that  Eirik  will  not  fight  against  Olaf  Tryggvason,  and 
dares  not  avenge  his  father;  and  this  is  such  a  great 
shame  that  it  will  spread  over  all  lands,  if  we  lie  here 
with  such  a  large  host,  and  Norway's  King  sails  with  his 
handful  of  men  past  us  and  out  to  sea.' 

"Eirik  Jarl  became  very  angry  at  their  words,  and 
asked  all  to  go  to  the  ships,  saying:  'I  expect,  though 
the  Danes  and  the  Swedes  now  question  my  courage 
much,  that  both  of  them  will  be  less  at  their  ease  before 
the  sun  goes  down  into  the  sea  to-night  than  I  and  my 
men.'  When  they  went  down  they  saw  four  large  ships 
sailing,  one  of  which  was  a  dragon  ship  much  ornamented 
with  gold.  Many  more  said  that  the  Jarl  had  spoken 
the  truth.  Here  now  sails  the  I^ong  Serpent,  and  it  is 
a  very  fine  and  large  ship ;  no  long  ship  is  similar  to  it 
in  beauty  and  size  in  the  northern  lands.  It  is  not 
strange  that  the  King  is  widely  renowned,  and  is  so 
great  as  to  have  such  things  made. 

"  King  Svein  arose  and  said :  '  High  shall  the  Serpent 
carry  me  to-night.  Him  will  I  steer.'  Eirik  Jarl  added : 


90  THE  REAL  LONG  SERPENT 

•  Even  if  King  Olaf  Tryggvason  had  no  larger  ship  than 
the  one  we  just  now  saw,  King  Svein  would  never  win 
it  from  him  with  the  Dane  host  alone.'  But  these 
head  ships  they  thought  to  be  the  Long  Serpent, — the 
first  was  the  Tranan  (the  Crane\  and  the  second  the 
Ormrinn  Skammi  (the  Short  Serpent).  The  men  crowded 
to  the  ships  and  pulled  down  the  tents,  and  the  chiefs 
arranged  the  host  for  attack,  and  it  is  said  that  they 
threw  lots  who  should  first  attack  Olafs  own  ship,  the 
Long  Serpent. 

"  Svein,  King  of  Denmark,  drew  the  lot  to  attack  first, 
and  Olaf,  King  of  Sweden,  and  Eirik  Jarl  last,  if  they 
needed  it;  and  it  was  agreed  between  the  chiefs,  King 
Svein,  King  Olaf,  and  Eirik  Jarl,  that  each  should  become 
owner  of  one-third  of  Norway  if  they  slew  King  Olaf; 
while  he  who  first  got  up  on  the  Serpent  should  own  all 
the  booty  there  was  on  board,  and  each  should  own 
the  ships  which  he  himself  captured  and  cleared  of 
men. 

"  Eirik  Jarl  had  a  very  large  bardi  which  he  used  to 
have  on  Viking  expeditions ;  there  were  beaks  on  the  top 
of  both  stem  and  stern,  and  below  there  was  a  thick 
iron  plate  which  covered  the  whole  of  the  stem  and  stern 
all  the  way  down  to  the  water. 

"  When  the  chiefs  had  talked  thus  between  themselves 
they  saw  three  very  large  ships,  and  following  them  a 
fourth.  They  all  saw  a  large  dragon's  head  on  the  stern, 
ornamented  so  that  it  seemed  made  of  pure  gold,  and 
it  gleamed  far  and  wide  over  the  sea  as  the  sun  shone 
on  it.  As  they  looked  at  the  ship  they  wondered  greatly 
at  its  length,  for  the  stern  did  not  appear  till  long  after 
they  had  seen  the  prow ;  then  all  knew  and  no  one 
gainsaid  that  this  was  the  Long  Serpent.  At  this 
sight  many  a  man  grew  silent,  and  fear  and  terror  crept 


SIGVALDI  JARL  MANOEUVRES  91 

into  the  breast  of  the  host.  This  was  not  strange,  for 
the  great  ship  carried  death  for  many  men.  Then  said 
Eirik  Jarl :  '  This  famous  ship  is  befitting  such  a  King 
as  Olaf  Tryggvason,  for  it  is  true  of  him  that  he  excels 
other  Kings  as  much  as  the  Long  Serpent  does  other 
ships.' 

"  When  Sigvaldi  Jarl  had  let  down  the  sails  on  his  ships 
and  rowed  up  to  the  island,  Thorkel  Dydril  on  the 
Tranan  and  other  ship-steerers  who  went  with  him  saw 
that  he  turned  his  ship  towards  the  islands;  they 
lowered  their  sails  and  followed  him!  Thorkel  shouted 
to  Sigvaldi,  asking  why  he  did  not  sail.  The  jarl 
replied  he  would  wait  there  for  King  Olaf.  They  let 
their  ships  float  until  Thorkel  Nefja  arrived  with  the 
Short  Serpent  and  the  four  ships  which  followed  him ; 
they  also  lowered  their  sails,  and  let  their  ships  float, 
waiting  for  the  King.  The  fleet  of  the  Kings  lay  inside 
the  harbour,  so  that  they  could  not  see  how  large  a  host 
they  had ;  but  when  King  Olaf  sailed  towards  the  island 
and  saw  that  his  men  had  lowered  their  sails  and  waited 
for  him,  he  steered  towards  them  and  asked  why  they 
did  not  go  on.  They  told  him  that  a  host  of  foes  was 
before  them,  and  requested  him  to  flee.  The  King  stood 
on  the  lypting  while  he  heard  these  tidings,  and  said  to 
his  men :  '  Let  down  the  sail  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
some  of  you  put  out  the  oars  to  take  the  speed  off  the 
ship.  I  will  rather  fight  than  flee,  for  never  yet  have  I 
fled  from  battle ;  my  life  is  in  God's  power,  but  never 
will  I  take  to  flight,  for  he  is  not  a  true  King  who  in 
fear  flies  from  his  foes.' 

"  It  was  done  as  the  King  said,  and  the  Serpent  ran  in 
front  of  the  ships,  and  the  men  of  the  other  ships 
brought  them  ahead  by  pulling  with  their  oars.  Then 
the  entire  host  of  the  Kings  towed  up  from  under  the 


92  IN  BATTLE  ARRAY 

island ;  and  the  chiefs  were  very  glad  when  they  found 
that  King  Olaf  had  fallen  into  their  ambush. 

"  When  King  Olaf  Tryggvason  and  his  men  saw  that 
the  sea  was  covered  far  and  wide  with  the  war-ships  of 
their  foes,  a  wise  and  valiant  man,  Thorkel  Dydril,  his 
uncle,  said :  '  Lord,  here  is  an  overwhelming  force  to  fight 
against ;  let  us  hoist  our  sails  and  follow  our  men  out  to 
sea.  We  can  still  do  so  while  our  foes  prepare  themselves 
for  battle,  for  it  is  not  looked  upon  as  cowardice  by  any 
one  for  a  man  to  use  forethought  for  himself  or  his  men.'1 
King  Olaf  replied  loudly :  '  Tie  together  the  ships,  and 
let  the  men  prepare  for  battle,  and  draw  their  swords, 
for  my  men  shall  not  think  of  flight.1 

"  The  chiefs  arranged  the  host  for  attack,  and  it  is  said 
that  they  threw  lots  who  should  first  attack  Olaf  s  ship, 
the  Long  Serpent.  Svein  drew  the  lot  to  attack  first, 
then  Olaf  and  Eirik  Jarl  last,  if  it  was  needed. 

"  King  Olaf  signalled  by  horn  to  lay  the  eleven  ships 
together  which  he  had  there.  The  Long  Serpent  was 
in  the  middle,  with  the  Short  Serpent  on  one  side  and 
the  Crane  on  the  other,  and  four  other  ships  on  each  side 
of  them.  But  the  ship-host,  though  he  had  large  ships, 
was  only  a  small  detachment  compared  to  the  overwhelm- 
ing host  which  his  enemies  had.  He  now  missed  his 
host,  as  it  was  likely.  King  Olafs  men  now  tied 
together  the  ships  as  bid;  but  when  he  saw  that  they 
began  to  tie  together  the  sterns  of  the  Long  Serpent 
and  the  Short  Serpent,  he  called  out  loudly:  'Bring 
forward  the  large  ship;  I  will  not  be  the  hindmost  of 
all  my  men  in  this  host  when  the  battle  begins." 

"Then  Ulf  the  Red,  the  King's  standard-bearer  and 
his  stem-defender,  said :  *  If  the  Serpent  shall  be  put 
as  much  forward  as  it  is  larger  and  longer  than  the  other 
ships,  the  men  in  the  bows  will  have  a  hard  time  of  it. 


ULF  REPLIES  93 

The  King  answered :  '  I  had  the  Serpent  made  longer  than 
other  ships,  so  that  it  should  be  put  forward  more  boldly 
in  battle,  and  be  well  known  in  fighting  and  sailing, 
but  I  did  not  know  that  I  had  a  stem-defender  who 
was  both  red  and  faint -headed.'  Ulf  replied :  '  Turn, 
though,  King,  no  more  than  back  forward  in  defending 
the  lypting  than  I  will  in  defending  the  stem.1  The 
King  had  a  bow  in  his  hand,  and  laid  an  arrow  on  the 
string  and  aimed  at  Ulf.  Then  Ulf  said :  '  Do  not  shoot 
me,  lord,  but  rather  where  it  is  more  needed,  that  is  at 
our  foes,  for  what  I  win  I  win  for  thee.  May  be  you  will 
think  your  men  not  over  many  before  the  evening  comes. 

"  The  King  took  off  the  arrow,  and  did  not  shoot. 

"  Very  fine  King  Olaf  must  have  looked  as  he  stood  on 
the  lypting  of  the  Serpent,  and  rose  high  up ;  he  had  a 
gilt  shield  and  a  gilt  helmet,  and  was  recognisable  from 
afar.  He  wore  a  short  red  silk  kirtle  over  his  coat  of 
mail.  When  he  saw  that  the  hosts  of  his  foes  began  to 
separate,  and  that  the  standards  were  raised  in  front  of 
the  chiefs,  he  asked:  'Who  is  chief  of  that  standard 
which  is  opposite  us  ? '  He  was  told  that  it  was  King 
Svein  with  the  Danish  host.  The  King  said  :  '  We  are 
not  afraid  of  those  cowards,  for  no  more  courage  is  there 
in  the  Danes  than  in  wood  goats;  never  were  Danes 
victorious  over  Northmen,  and  they  will  not  conquer  us 
to-day.  But  what  chief  follows  the  standards  which  are 
to  the  right  ? '  He  was  told  that  it  was  Olaf  the  Swede, 
with  the  Svia  host.  The  King  added :  *  Easier  and 
pleasanter  will  the  Swedes  think  it  to  sit  at  home  and 
lick  their  sacrifice  bowls  than  to  board  the  Long  Serpent 
to-day  under  your  weapons,  and  I  think  we  need  not  fear 
the  horse-eating  Swedes ;  but  who  owns  those  large  ships 
to  the  left  of  the  Danes  ? '  'It  is,'  they  said,  ' Eirik  Jaii 
Hakonsson.'  King  Olaf  replied :  '  This  host  is  full  of 


94  OLAF  FIGHTS  MOST  BOLDLY 

high-born  men  whom  they  have  ranged  against  us ; 
Eirik  Jarl  thinks  he  has  just  cause  for  fighting  us.  It  is 
likely  we  shall  have  a  hard  struggle  with  him  and  his  men, 
for  they  are  Northmen  like  ourselves.' 

"  The  Kings  and  the  Jarl  rowed  at  King  Olaf.  .  .  .  The 
horns  were  blown,  and  both  sides  shouted  a  war-cry,  and 
a  hard  battle  commenced.  Sigvaldi  let  his  ships  row  to 
and  fro,  and  did  not  take  part  in  the  battle.  The 
battle  raged  fiercely,  at  first  with  arrows  from  cross-bows 
and  hand-bows,  and  then  with  spears  and  javelins,  and 
all  say  that  King  Olaf  fought  most  manfully.  .  .  .  King 
Svein's  men  turned  their  stems  as  thickly  as  they  could 
towards  both  sides  of  the  Long  Serpent,  as  it  stood  much 
farther  forward  than  the  other  ships  of  King  Olaf;  the 
Danes  also  attacked  the  Short  Serpent  and  the  Crane, 
and  the  fight  was  of  the  sharpest  and  the  carnage  great. 
All  the  stem-defenders  on  the  Serpent  who  could  fought 
hand-to-hand,  but  King  Olaf  himself  and  those  aft  shot 
with  bows  and  used  short  swords  (handsox),  and  repeatedly 
killed  and  wounded  the  Danes. 

"  Though  King  Svein  made  the  hardest  onset  on  the 
Northmen  with  sixty  ships,  the  Danish  and  Swedish  hosts 
nevertheless  were  incessantly  within  shooting  distance.  King 
Olaf  made  the  bravest  defence  with  his  men,  but  still  they 
fell.  King  Olaf  fought  most  boldly  ;  he  shot  chiefly  with 
bows  and  spears,  but  when  the  attack  was  made  on  the 
Serpent  he  went  forward  in  hand-to-hand  fight,  and  cleft 
many  a  man's  skull  with  his  sword. 

"The  attack  proved  difficult  for  the  Danes,  for  the 
stem-defenders  of  the  Long  Serpent  and  on  the  Short 
Serpent  and  the  Crane  hooked  anchors  and  grappling- 
hooks  on  to  King  Svein's  ships,  and  as  they  could  strike 
down  upon  the  enemy  with  their  weapons,  for  they  had 
much  larger  and  higher-boarded  ships,  they  cleared  of 


THE  DOINGS  OF  EIRIK  JARL  95 

men  all  the  Danish  ships  which  they  had  laid  hold  of. 
King  Svein  and  all  who  could  get  away  fled  on  board 
other  ships,  and  thereupon  they  withdrew,  tired  and 
wounded,  out  of  shooting  distance.  It  happened  as  Olaf 
Tryggvason  guessed,  that  the  Danes  did  not  gain  a 
victory  over  the  Northmen. 

"It  happened  to  the  Swedes  as  to  the  Danes,  that 
the  Northmen  held  fast  their  ships  with  grappling-hooks 
and  anchors,  and  cleared  those  they  could  reach.  Their 
swords  dealt  one  fate  to  all  Swedes  whom  they  reached 
with  their  blows.  The  Swedes  became  tired  of  keeping 
up  the  fight  where  Olaf  with  his  picked  champions  went 
at  them  most  fiercely.  .  .  .  Men  say  that  the  sharpest 
and  bloodiest  fight  was  that  of  the  two  namesakes 
before  Olaf  and  the  Swedes  retreated.  The  Swedes  had 
a  heavy  loss  of  men,  and  also  lost  their  largest  ships. 
Most  of  the  warriors  of  Olaf,  the  Swedish  King,  were 
wounded,  and  he  had  won  no  fame  by  this,  but  was 
fain  to  escape  alive.  Now  Olaf  Tryggvason  had  made 
both  the  Danes  and  Swedes  take  to  flight.  It  all  went 
as  he  had  said. 

"Now  must  be  told  what  Eirik  Jarl  did  while  the 
Kings  fought  against  Norway's  King.  The  Jarl  first 
came  alongside  the  farthest  ship  of  King  Olaf  on  one 
wing  with  the  Jarnbardi,  cleared  it,  and  cut  it  from  the 
fastenings;  he  then  boarded  the  next  one,  and  fought 
there  until  it  was  cleared.  The  men  then  began  to 
jump  from  the  smaller  ships  on  to  the  larger  ones,  but 
the  Jarl  cut  away  each  ship  from  the  fastenings  as  it 
was  cleared.  The  Danes  and  Swedes  drew  up  within 
shooting  distance  on  all  sides  of  King  OlaFs  ships,  but 
Eirik  Jarl  lay  continually  side  by  side  with  one  of  them 
in  hand-to-hand  fight ;  and  as  the  men  fell  on  his  ship 
other  Danes  and  Swedes  took  their  places.  Then  the 


96  DESPERATE  FIGHTING 

battle  was  both  hard  and  sharp,  and  many  of  King  Olaf  s 
men  fell. 

"  At  last  all  Olaf  s  ships  had  been  cleared  except  the 
Long  Serpent,  which  carried  all  the  men  who  were  able 
to  fight.  Eirik  Jarl  then  attacked  the  Serpent  with  five 
large  ships.  He  laid  the  Jarnbardi  alongside  the  Serpent, 
and  then  ensued  the  fiercest  fight  and  the  most  terrible 
hand-to-hand  struggle  that  could  be. 

"Eirik  Jarl  was  in  the  foreroom  of  his  ship,  where 
a  shieldburgh  was  drawn  up.  There  was  both  hand-to- 
hand  fight  and  spear-throwing,  and  every  kind  of  weapon 
was  thrown,  and  whatever  could  be  seized  by  the  hand. 
Some  shot  with  bows  or  with  their  hands,  and  such  a 
shower  of  weapons  was  poured  upon  the  Serpent  that 
the  men  could  hardly  protect  themselves  against  it. 
Then  spears  and  arrows  flew  thickly,  for  on  ah1  sides 
of  the  Serpent  lay  war-ships.  King  Olafs  men  now 
became  so  furious  that  they  jumped  upon  the  gunwales 
in  order  to  reach  their  foes  with  their  swords  and  kill 
them,  but  many  did  not  lay  their  ships  so  close  to  the 
Serpent  as  to  get  into  hand-to-hand  fight ;  most  of  them 
thought  it  hard  to  deal  with  Olafs  champions.  The 
Northmen  thought  of  nothing  but  continually  going 
forward  to  slay  their  foes,  and  many  went  straight 
overboard;  for  out  of  eagerness  and  daring  they 
forgot  that  they  were  not  fighting  on  dry  ground, 
and  many  sank  down  with  their  weapons  between  the 
ships.  .  .  . 

"King  Olaf  Tryggvason  stood  on  the  lypting  of  the 
Serpent,  and  chiefly  used  during  the  day  his  bow  and 
javelins;  and  always  two  javelins  at  a  time.  It  was 
agreed  by  all,  both  friends  and  foes,  who  were  present, 
and  those  who  have  heard  these  tidings  told  with  the 
greatest  truth,  that  they  have  known  no  man  fight 


COMES  HYRNING  WITH  HIS  FOLLOWERS    97 

more  valiantly  than  King  Olaf  Tryggvason.  King  Olaf 
surpassed  most  other  kings,  in  that  he  made  himself  so 
easily  known  in  the  battle  that  men  knew  no  example 
of  any  king  having  shown  himself  so  openly  to  his  foes, 
especially  as  he  had  to  fight  against  such  an  overwhelm- 
ing force.  The  King  showed  the  bravery  of  his  mind, 
and  the  pride  of  his  heart,  so  that  all  men  might  see 
that  he  shunned  no  danger.  The  better  he  was  seen, 
and  the  greater  lack  of  fear  he  showed  in  the  battle, 
the  greater  fear  and  terror  he  inspired. 

"King  Olaf  saw  that  his  men  on  the  forepart  of 
the  ship  frequently  raised  their  swords  to  strike,  and 
that  the  swords  cut  badly.  He  cried  out,  'Why  do 
you  raise  your  swords  so  slowly  ?  I  see  they  do 
not  bite ! '  A  man  replied,  '  Our  swords  are  both 
dull  and  broken,  lord.'  The  King  then  went  down 
from  the  lypting  into  the  foreroom  and  unlocked  the 
high  seat  chest  and  took  therefrom  many  bright  and 
sharp  swords,  which  he  gave  to  his  men.  As  he  put 
down  his  right  hand  they  saw  that  blood  flowed  out 
of  the  sleeve  of  the  coat-of-mail,  but  no  one  knew  where 
he  was  wounded. 

"Hard  and  bloody  was  the  defence  of  the  foreroom 
men  and  the  stem-defenders,  for  in  both  those  places 
the  gunwale  was  highest  and  the  men  picked.  When 
the  fall  of  men  began  on  the  Serpent,  it  was  first  amid- 
ships, mostly  from  wounds  and  exhaustion,  and  men 
say  that  if  these  brave  men  could  have  kept  up  their 
defence,  the  Serpent  would  never  have  been  won. 
When  only  a  few  were  left  on  the  Serpent  around  the 
mast  amidships,  Eirik  Jarl  boarded  it  with  fourteen 
men.  Then  came  against  him  the  King's  brother-in-law, 
Hyrning,  with  his  followers,  and  between  them  ensued 
a  hard  struggle,  for  Hyrning  fought  very  boldly.  It  thus 
7 


98  THORKEL'S  ADVICE 

ended  that  Eirik  Jarl  retreated  on  the  bardi ;  but  of 
those  who  had  followed  him,  some  fell,  and  some  were 
wounded;  and  Hyrning  and  Eirik  Jarl  became  much 
renowned  from  this  fight.  .  .  . 

"  Eirik  Jarl  took  off  the  bardi  the  dead  and  wounded, 
and  in  their  stead  brought  fresh  and  rested  men,  whom 
he  selected  from  among  Swedes  and  Danes.  It  is  also 
said  by  some,  that  the  Jarl  had  promised  to  let  himself 
be  baptized  if  he  won  the  Serpent;  and  it  is  a  proof 
of  their  statement  that  he  threw  away  Thor  and  put 
up  in  its  place  a  crucifix  in  the  stem  of  the  bardi. 

"  When  he  had  prepared  his  men,  he  said  to  a  wise 
and  powerful  chief  who  was  present,  Thorkel  the  High, 
brother  of  Sigvaldi  Jarl :  '  Often  have  I  been  in  battles, 
and  never  have  I  before  found  men  equally  brave  and 
so  skilled  in  fighting  as  those  on  the  Serpent,  nor  have 
I  seen  a  ship  so  hard  to  win.  Now,  as  thou  art  one  of 
the  wisest  of  men,  give  me  the  best  advice  thou  knowest 
how  the  Serpent  may  be  won/  Thorkel  replied,  'I 
cannot  give  thee  sure  advice  thereon,  but  I  can  say 
what  seems  to  me  best  to  do.  Thou  must  take  large 
timbers,  and  let  them  fall  from  thy  ship  upon  the 
gunwale  of  the  Serpent,  so  that  it  will  lean  over;  you 
will  then  find  it  easier  to  board  the  Serpent,  if  its 
gunwale  is  no  higher  than  those  of  the  other  ships.  I 
can  give  thee  no  other  advice,  if  this  will  not  do.'  The 
Jarl  carried  out  what  Thorkel  had  told  him.  .  .  . 

"  When  Eirik  Jarl  was  ready  he  attacked  the  Serpent 
a  second  time,  and  all  the  Danish  and  Swedish  host 
again  made  an  onset  on  King  Olaf  Tryggvason;  the 
Swedes  placed  their  prows  close  to  the  Serpent,  but 
the  greatest  part  of  the  host  was  within  shooting  dis- 
tance of  the  Northmen,  and  shot  at  them  incessantly. 
The  Jarl  again  laid  the  bardi  side  by  side  with  the 


SUCCESS  OF  THORKEL'S  ADVICE  99 

Serpent,  and  made  a  very  sharp  onslaught  with  fresh 
men ;  neither  did  he  spare  himself  in  the  battle,  nor 
those  of  his  men  who  were  left. 

"  King  Olaf  and  his  men  defended  themselves  with 
the  utmost  bravery  and  manliness,  so  that  there  was 
little  increase  in  the  fall  of  men  on  the  Serpent  while 
they  were  fresh ;  they  slew  many  of  their  foes,  both 
on  the  Jarnbardi  and  on  other  ships  which  lay  near 
the  Serpent.  As  the  fight  still  went  against  Eirik 
Jarl,  he  hoisted  large  timbers  on  the  bardi,  which  fell 
on  the  Serpent.  It  is  believed  that  the  Serpent  would 
not  have  been  won  but  for  this,  which  had  been  advised 
by  Thorkel  the  High.  The  Serpent  began  to  lean 
over  very  much  when  the  large  timbers  were  dropped 
on  her  gunwale,  and  thereupon  many  fell  on  both  sides. 
When  the  defenders  of  the  Serpent  began  to  thin,  Eirik 
boarded  it  and  met  with  a  warm  reception. 

"When  King  Olafs  stem-defenders  saw  that  the 
Jarl  had  got  up  on  the  Serpent,  they  went  aft  and 
turned  against  him,  and  made  a  very  hard  resistance ; 
but  then  so  many  began  to  fall  on  the  Serpent,  that 
the  gunwales  were  in  many  places  deserted,  and  the 
Jarl's  men  boarded  them ;  and  all  the  men  who  were 
standing  up  for  defence  withdrew  aft  to  where  the 
King  was.  Halddr,  a  poet,  says  that  the  Jarl  urged  on 
his  men. 

"It  is  said  that  Thorstein  Useafdt  was  in  the  fore- 
room  aft  by  the  lypting,  and  said  to  the  King,  when 
the  Jarl's  men  came  thickest  on  board  the  Serpent, 
'  Lord,  each  man  must  now  do  what  he  can ! '  *  Why 
not?1  answered  the  King.  Thorstein  struck  with  his 
fist  one  of  the  Jarl's  men  who  jumped  up  on  the 
gunwale  near  him ;  he  hit  his  cheek  so  hard  that  he 
dropped  out  into  the  sea,  and  at  once  perished,  After 


ioo  GREAT  IS  THE  JARL'S  LUCK 

this  Thorstein  became  so  enraged  that  he  took  up 
the  sail-yard  and  fought  with  it.  When  the  King  saw 
this,  he  said  to  Thorstein,  'Take  thy  weapons,  man, 
and  defend  thyself  with  them ;  for  weapons,  and  not 
hands  alone  or  timber,  are  meant  for  men  to  fight 
with  in  battle.'  Thorstein  then  took  his  sword,  and 
fought  valiantly. 

"There  was  still  a  most  fierce  fight  in  the  foreroom, 
and  King  Olaf  shot  from  the  lypting  javelins  or  spears, 
both  hard  and  often.  When  he  saw  that  Eirik  Jarl 
had  come  into  the  foreroom  of  the  Serpent,  he  shot  at 
him  with  three  short-handled  kesjas,  or  short  spears,  but 
they  did  not  go  as  usual  (for  he  never  missed  his  aim 
when  shooting),  and  none  of  these  kesjas  hit  the  Jarl. 
The  first  flew  past  his  right  side,  the  second  his  left, 
and  the  third  flew  on  to  the  forepart  of  the  ship  above 
the  Jarl's  head.  Then  the  King  said,  'Never  before 
did  I  thus  miss  a  man ;  great  is  the  Jarl's  hamingja 
(luck) ;  it  must  be  God's  will  that  he  now  shall  rule 
in  Norway,  and  that  is  not  strange,  for  I  think  he  has 
changed  the  stem-dweller  on  the  bardi.  I  said  to-day 
that  he  would  not  gain  victory  over  us,  if  he  had  Thor 
in  the  stem.' 

"As  many  of  the  Jarl's  men  had  got  up  on  board 
the  Serpent  as  could  be  there,  and  his  ships  lay  on  all 
sides  of  it,  and  but  few  remained  for  defence  against 
such  a  host.  In  a  short  time  many  of  King  Olafs 
champions  fell,  though  they  were  both  strong  and 
valiant.  There  fell  both  the  King's  brothers-in-law, 
Hyrning  and  Thorgeir,  Vicar  of  Tiundaland,  Ulf  the 
Red,  and  many  other  brave  men,  who  left  a  famous  name 
behind. 

"  Kolbjorn  Stallari,  the  marshal,  had  defended  the  stem 
during  the  day  with  the  other  stem -defenders ;  he  had 


KING  OLAF  DIES  101 

weapons  and  clothing  very  much  like  King  Olaf,  and  he 
had  dressed  so  because  he  thought  that  if  necessary,  as  it 
now  was,  he  might  save  the  life  of  the  King.  When  the 
most  valiant  of  the  King's  men  in  the  foreroom  began  to 
fall,  Kolbjorn  went  up  on  the  lypting  to  the  King.  It 
was  not  easy  to  tell  them  apart,  for  Kolbjorn  was  a  very 
large  and  handsome  man.  There  was  then  such  a  thick 
shower  of  weapons  in  the  lypting  that  the  shields  of 
King  Olaf  and  Kolbjorn  were  covered  all  over  with 
arrows.  But  when  the  JaiTs  men  came  up  to  the 
lypting,  it  seemed  to  them  that  so  much  light  came 
over  the  King  that  they  could  not  see  through  it,  yet 
when  the  light  vanished  they  saw  King  Olaf  nowhere." — 
Olaf  Tryggvasori's  Saga :  Fornmanna  Sogur,  ii. 


CHAPTER  VII 
BERGEN  ON  THE  BY  FJORD 

T)  ERGEN  must  be  approached  by  water  to  be  seen  as 
JLJ  it  should  be,  and  to  be  appreciated  as  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  little  cities  in  Europe.  Norway, 
when  all  is  said,  is  a  country  of  mountains.  It  may 
have  waterfalls,  lakes,  rivers,  quaint  boats,  and  quaint 
costume,  but  to  all  and  each  of  these  there  is  the 
mountain  setting.  In  this  case  Bergen  is  the  jewel  set 
in  its  seven  mountains.  Prosaic  Baedeker  tries  to  make 
out  that  there  are  but  four,  but  the  citizens  count 
seven,  and  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  town  contain 
seven  hills,  so  this,  I  think,  should  be  conclusive.  The 
town  should  know  best.  Anyhow,  the  town  was  much 
exercised  and  anxious  when  we  landed,  every  gaze  was 
turned  towards  Ulriken,  that  lies  to  the  north-east. 
Everyone  possessed  of  a  telescope,  opera -glass,  or 
binocular  was  the  centre  of  a  small  crowd,  all  looking 
upwards  at  the  mountain.  We  also  looked,  but  could 
see  nothing  but  a  patch  of  snow  or  white-coloured 
stone.  Where  is  it  ?  and,  What  is  it  ?  was  the  question 
on  each  one's  lips.  Not  till  we  arrived  at  the  Hotel 
Metropole  could  we  get  our  answer. 

The  stout  porter  spoke  English  fluently,  and  whilst 
looking  through  our  glasses  told  us  how  two  young  ladies 
had  climbed  up  the  mountain  the  day  before,  and  it 
was  supposed  had  lost  their  way  or  had  climbed  a  spot 

102 


BINDING'S  MONUMENT  103 

too  steep  to  climb  down  ;  anyhow,  there  they  were  sitting 
under  the  rock.  Of  course,  they  would  be  English.  No 
one  else  would  do  such  a  thing  without  a  guide ;  they 
had  been  out  all  night  in  the  pouring  rain.  We  both 
felt  quite  concerned,  and,  like  everyone  else,  looked  and 
looked  again  at  the  patch.  Had  anyone  gone  to  their 
help  ?  Yes,  some  firemen  and  soldiers  had  made  a 
party,  and  were  now  climbing  up  to  their  rescue. 

As  nothing  more  could  be  done  at  the  moment,  we 
turned  into  the  little  park  hard  by  to  look  at  Stephen 
Binding's  Monument  to  Ole  Bull.  It  seemed  to  me 
imposing  in  its  simplicity.  The  rough-hewn  rock  that 
forms  the  pedestal,  with  a  spring  bubbling  up  through 
it,  symbolised  the  master's  love  for  the  wild  mountains, 
and  the  music  of  running  water.  His  lithe  body  is  well 
poised  on  the  top,  as  with  head  erect  he  draws  his  bow 
across  the  strings  of  his  loved  violin.  A  pity  it  is  that 
Sinding  had  not  Pygmalion's  power  to  make  his  statue 
live. 

It  makes  one  think  what  it  can  be  in  Bergen  that 
generates  great  men.  Can  it  be  the  constant  rain,  that 
keeps  the  brain  soft  and  open  to  receive  impressions  ? 
or  is  it  the  simple  life  led  by  the  Norwegians  ?  or  the 
great  solitudes  that  are  so  easily  reached  where  one  could 
think  and  dream  for  days  and  hours?  Whatever  it 
may  be,  the  fact  remains,  that  this  small  northern 
capital  of  72,600  inhabitants  is  the  birthplace  of  men 
who  have  shone  like  stars  all  over  the  world — in  reform, 
literature,  music,  painting,  and  poetry. 

Ole  Bull  stands  pre-eminent,  like  in  face  to  Liszt, 
but  with  a  sharper,  keener  look,  black  brows  over  bright 
glad  eyes  full  of  life  and  hope,  a  firm  mouth  and  dimpled 
chin ;  a  man  who  could  do  much  and  suffer  much ; 
a  man  whom  it  would  be  easy  to  idolise,  and  a  word 


104  OLE  BULL 

from  whose  mouth  would  set  a  soul  bounding  and 
revive  depressed  and  flagging  energy.  Ole  Bull  is  the 
idol  of  so  great  a  master  as  Grieg.  Mr.  Finck  tells  us, 
in  his  most  interesting  life  of  Grieg,  how  as  a  boy 
"something  like  an  electric  current  seemed  to  pass 
through  the  lad  when  the  world-famed  violinist  shook 
his  hand,  though  he  could  not  understand  his  god  smil- 
ing and  joking  just  like  an  ordinary  mortal." 

Ole  Bull  was  born  in  Bergen  thirty-three  years  before 
Grieg.  Luckily  for  him,  his  musical  proclivities  were 
discovered  and  appreciated  by  his  master,  the  old  rector 
of  the  Latin  School,  who  said  to  him,  "  Take  your  fiddle 
in  earnest,  boy,  and  don't  waste  your  time  here."  He 
followed  this  advice  and  became  a  violinist,  concerning 
whom  no  less  an  authority  than  Joachim  said :  "  No 
artist  in  our  time  has  possessed  his  poetic  fire."  He 
went  to  Germany  to  study  his  violin  with  the  famous 
Spohr,  but  found  his  style  too  academic  to  suit  him. 
The  capricious,  fantastic  Paganini  was  more  to  his 
taste,  and  him  he  chose  for  a  model,  if  it  can  be  said  that 
he  chose  one  at  all.  He  soon  won  a  fame  and  popularity 
hardly  second  to  the  great  Italians,  and  became  an 
indefatigable  traveller,  giving  concerts  in  the  cities  of 
Scandinavia,  Russia,  Germany,  France,  Italy,  and 
America. 

As  one  can  well  imagine,  his  love  for  his  violin  was 
very  great :  on  two  or  three  occasions  he  nearly  lost  his 
life  through  it.  The  first  time  in  Paris,  where  he  tried 
to  drown  himself  in  the  Seine  on  finding  his  treasure 
had  been  stolen  ;  but  he  was  rescued,  and  a  wealthy 
lady  gave  him  another  Guarneri. 

It  was  in  a  large  measure  due  to  a  fit  of  pique  on 
the  part  of  Madame  Malibran,  that  Ole  Bull  scored  his 
first  great  success.  It  was  from  Bologna  that  his  friends 


MADAME  MALIBRAN  105 

at  home  first  received  the  news  of  his  triumphs,  and 
here  it  was  that  he  won  the  great  celebrity  that 
followed  him  ever  afterwards.  Sara  Bull,  his  sister, 
tells  us,  that  Madame  Malibran  had  been  engaged  by 
the  directors  of  the  theatre  for  a  series  of  nights;  but 
she  had  made  a  condition  which  compelled  them  to 
give  the  use  of  the  theatre  without  charge  to  De  Beriot, 
with  whom  she  was  to  appear  in  two  concerts.  The 
Marquis  Lampieri,  who  was  recognised  as  one  of  the 
greatest  authorities  in  the  musical  world,  persuaded  these 
artists  to  appear  at  the  same  time.  All  was  arranged 
and  announced  when,  by  chance,  Malibran  heard  that 
De  Beriot  was  to  receive  a  smaller  sum  than  had  been 
stipulated  for  herself.  .  Piqued  at  this  she  feigned  illness, 
and  De  Beriot  declared  he  was  suffering  from  a  sprained 
thumb. 

Ole  Bull  had  been  a  fortnight  in  Bologna,  living  in 
an  upper  room,  in  a  poor  hotel.  Secluded  from  society, 
he  spent  the  days  in  writing  out  his  concerto ;  when 
evening  came,  the  wonderful  tones  of  his  violin  sounded 
from  the  open  windows  to  the  delight  of  the  passers-by. 
One  evening  the  celebrated  Colbran  Rossini's  first  wife 
was  passing  Casa  Soldali  and  heard  those  strains.  "It 
must  be  a  violin,"  she  said,  "but  a  divine  one,  which 
will  be  a  substitute  for  De  Beriot  and  Malibran.1'  And 
she  went  and  told  Lampieri  on  the  night  of  the  concert. 
Ole  Bull,  full  of  weariness,  had  retired  to  bed  early, 
when  he  was  roused  by  a  rap  at  the  door.  It  was 
Lampieri !  He  asked  Ole  Bull  to  improvise  for  him, 
and  after  listening  for  a  while,  cried,  "Malibran  may 
now  have  her  headaches ! " 

He  hurried  Ole  Bull  to  the  theatre,  where  sat  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  and  De  Beriot  with  his  hand 
in  a  sling.  Ole  Bull  was  almost  unnerved,  but  he 


106  ADELINA  PATTI 

chose  his  own  composition,  and  the  desperation  which 
compelled  him  to  shut  his  eyes,  made  him  play  with 
an  abandon  and  charm  which  at  once  captivated  his 
audience.  The  final  piece  was  to  be  a  violin  solo. 
The  director  was  doubtful,  but  Ole  Bull  by  this  time 
was  quite  composed,  and  played  so  divinely  that  his 
hearers  wept. 

Perhaps  the  most  memorable  of  his  concert  tours  was 
that  which  he  undertook  in  1853  with  the  girl  soprano, 
Adelina  Patti.  Reports  of  the  wonderful  art  of  this  child 
had  gone  forth,  and  as  one  of  the  American  critics 
remarked,  "  Nothing  short  of  the  testimony  we  have  seen 
could  make  us  believe  such  a  thing  possible.  Yet  the 
whole  artistic  life  of  Ole  Bull  is  a  guarantee  that  nothing 
but  sterling  merit  can  take  part  in  his  concerts." 

Ole  Bull's  object  in  giving  this  particular  series  of 
concerts  was  to  raise  funds  for  carrying  out  a  patriotic 
project  of  establishing  a  large  Norwegian  colony  in 
Pennsylvania.  "  A  new  Norway,"  to  cite  his  own  words, 
"  consecrated  to  liberty,  baptized  with  independence,  and 
protected  by  the  Union's  mighty  flag."  But  he  was  too 
thoroughly  an  artist  to  be  a  good  business  man.  After 
the  forests  had  been  cleared,  and  eight  hundred  settlers 
made  then-  homes  there,  he  found  that  he  had  been 
swindled;  the  title  to  the  land  he  had  paid  for  was 
fraudulent,  and  all  that  remained  of  his  earnings  was 
devoured  by  the  resulting  lawsuits.  His  disappointment 
was  aggravated  by  the  attitude  of  his  countrymen  when 
he  returned  to  his  home.  He  was  unjustly  accused  of 
having  speculated  ruthlessly  at  the  expense  of  those  who 
had  confided  in  him.  He  also  had  another  cause  for 
dissatisfaction  with  his  neighbours. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that,  up  to  that  time,  Norway  had 
depended  on  Danish  plays,  Danish  actors,  and  Danish 


DEATH  OF  OLE  BULL  107 

musicians,  he,  an  ardent  patriot,  wanted  to  found  a 
national  theatre  in  Bergen — a  Norse  theatre  with  a  Norse 
orchestra.  Such  a  theatre  was  actually  opened  on 
January  2,  1850 ;  but  when  he  found,  a  year  later,  that 
he  could  no  longer  bear  the  cost,  he  asked  the  Storthing 
for  a  yearly  appropriation.  This  was  refused,  and  he  T.vas 
subsequently  subjected  to  so  many  annoyances  that  after 
two  years  the  theatre  passed  into  other  hands.  In  1860, 
however,  he  resumed  his  direction  of  it,  appointing 
Bjornstjerne  Bjornson  as  dramatic  instructor.  Three 
years  later  he  tried  to  found  a  Norse  Music  Academy  in 
Christiania.  "  This  academy,"  writes  Jonas  Lie,  "  was  not 
founded;  but  the  seed — the  thought — was  at  that  time 
planted.  Since  then  it  has  grown  and  matured,  and 
to-day  we  have  a  body  of  artists  and  composers,  and 
quite  another  musical  culture  ready  to  receive  it." 

When  Ole  Bull  died  in  1880,  his  patriotic  aspirations 
and  services  were  duly  acknowledged.  The  King  sent 
a  telegram  of  condolence  to  the  widow,  expressing  his 
personal,  as  well  as  the  national,  loss,  and  Bjornstjerne 
Bjornson  said,  in  an  address  delivered  before  thousands  of 
mourners :  "  Patriotism  was  the  creative  power  in  his  life. 
When  he  established  the  Norse  theatre,  assisted  Norse 
art,  and  helped  the  National  Museum,  his  mighty 
instrument  singing  for  other  patriotic  ends ;  when  he 
helped  his  countrymen  and  others  wherever  he  found 
them,  it  was  not  so  much  for  the  object,  or  the  person, 
but  for  the  honour  of  Norway." 

Grieg  played  the  organ  at  the  funeral  services,  and  his 
remarks,  which  followed  Bjornson's,  must  also  be  cited. 
"Because  more  than  any  other  thou  wast  the  glory  of 
our  land ;  because  more  than  any  other  thou  hast  carried 
our  people  with  thee  up  towards  the  bright  heights  of 
Art ;  because  thou  wast  more  than  any  other  a  pioneer  of 


io8  THE  LAUREL  WREATH 

our  young  national  music;  more,  much  more,  than  any 
other,  the  faithful,  warm-hearted  conqueror  of  all  hearts, 
because  thou  hast  planted  a  seed  which  shall  spring 
up  in  the  future,  and  for  which  coming  generations  shall 
bless  thee,  with  the  gratitude  of  thousands  upon 
thousands  for  all  this,  in  the  name  of  our  Norse  memorial 
art,  I  lay  this  laurel  wreath  on  thy  coffin.  Peace  be  with 
thy  ashes ! " 

In  the  museum,  on  a  glass-covered  table,  lies  a  beautiful 
gold  laurel  wreath  with  berries  of  the  purest  pearls ; 
alongside  rests  the  violin  the  great  master  so  loved.  The 
strings  are  broken,  dust  is  the  hand  that  won  from  it  all 
that  it  could  give,  but  the  music  lives,  and  will  live  for 
aye. 

Follow  the  road  back  from  the  museum,  downhill  till 
you  reach  the  Hotel  Metropole.  Walk  along  the  road 
that  faces  it,  past  small  houses  on  your  left,  and  big 
grey  lodging-houses  on  your  right.  On  your  left  you 
will  see  the  walls  and  trees  of  the  graveyard,  the  rest  is 
easy.  Pass  through  the  little  iron  gate  and  you  find 
yourself  in  God's  acre,  so  still,  so  green,  so  damp.  The 
smell  of  box  pervades  the  air,  and  the  music  of  a  noisy 
little  bubbling  stream  is  the  only  sound.  Each  nation 
has  its  own  style  of  graves,  and  here  they  are  mostly 
covered  with  cast-iron  boxes,  with  sides  some  18  inches 
high.  They  are  not  pretty  to  look  at,  the  rust  creeps 
through,  and  all  are  overshadowed  by  the  weeping 
ash.  Towards  the  middle  the  ground  is  more  open,  and 
the  family  graves  are  small  gardens  neatly  kept,  and  evi- 
dently tended  by  loving  hands.  The  small  rake  and 
water-pot  testify  to  the  care  lavished  upon  them,  and 
there  is  a  seat  whereon  the  worker  may  rest  or  read. 
The  headstone  is  a  scroll  lifted  on  a  marble  cushion.  In 
the  centre,  where  four  water- worn  paths  meet,  rises  the 


A  STUDY  OF  HUMAN  NATURE          109 

small  ivy-covered  mound  that  enshrines  the  remains  of  the 
great  master,  and  on  the  great  urn  that  surmounts  the 
whole,  the  two  words  "  Ole  Bull" 

Till  I  passed  the  quarters  by  the  cemetery  I  had 
thought  that  Bergen  had  no  poor,  but  this  idea  was  put 
to  flight  on  passing  the  great  grey  blocks  of  tenements. 
Broken  windows,  and  dirty  babies  played  in  the  dust, 
and  the  ever-familiar  figure  predominated  of  a  little 
girl  carrying  a  baby  nearly  as  big  as  herself.  At  the 
fish-market,  too,  poverty  was  apparent.  Pale-faced 
children,  shoeless,  hatless,  and  ragged,  waited  to  grab 
and  quarrel  over  any  small  fish  or  morsel  that  might 
fall  perchance  on  the  paving -stones. 

To  lean  for  a  while  on  the  railings,  that  are  placed 
along  the  Vaageu  Quay,  where  the  boats  all  come  in  with 
their  loads  of  fish,  is  most  interesting.  It  is  one  of  the 
shows  of  the  town,  more  especially  on  market-days,  which 
are  Wednesday  and  Saturday.  The  smaller  boats  lie 
side  by  side,  as  many  as  can  possibly  squeeze  together, 
bow  on  to  the  wall,  the  larger  fishing-boats  lying  tier 
upon  tier  along  the  quays.  Men,  women,  and  children, 
with  every  kind  of  bag,  basket,  tin-pot,  newspaper,  and 
nets,  haggle  and  barter  for  the  fish.  They  stand  on  the 
steps  that  lead  down  to  the  water,  and  along  the 
railings.  It  is  a  good  spot  to  study  human  nature  in  all 
its  varieties.  From  the  lady  who  leaves  her  carriage  to 
do  her  own  marketing,  to  the  miserably  poor  woman  who 
looks  long  and  carefully  at  the  small  fish  held  up  to 
her  in  the  wooden  shovel,  the  small  coin  she  is  about 
to  part  with  held  tightly  in  her  hand.  The  fish  was 
cheap,  and  the  variety  that  the  boats  contained  very 
surprising. 

In  the  market  square  the  tables  were  laid  out  with 
some  of  the  larger  kinds  of  fish,  of  which  only  a  portion 


1 10  TYDSKEBRYGGEN 

could  be  sold  at  a  time.  Alongside  each  one  was  a  big 
tub,  with  the  far-famed  klip  fish,  and  round  fish,  soaking 
in  water,  looking  plump  and  full,  a  wonderful  contrast 
to  the  dried  husks  stacked  like  hay  in  the  boats.  The 
country  folk  had  all  driven  in  with  farm  produce,  and 
now,  before  returning  home,  came  down  to  the  quay. 
Their  carts  were  left  with  the  horse  in  the  shafts,  one 
hoof  securely  fastened  to  the  wheel.  Some  of  the  milk- 
tins  were  brought  down,  the  last  drain  of  milk  turned 
out,  and  the  tin  (most  reprehensible  habit  I  thought) 
filled  with  fish.  But  as  in  Norway  the  cows  in  some 
places  are  fed  on  fish,  the  flavour  in  the  milk  might  pass 
unnoticed  by  the  consumer. 

The  women  who  came  to  do  the  bargaining  were  ugly, 
and  the  mere  fact  of  haggling  made  them  uglier  still. 
We  never  saw  such  a  crowd ;  they  surged  and  pushed, 
hands  were  thrust  through  the  bars  to  receive  the  fish, 
and  the  fishermen  held  up  their  fish-scoops  for  the  money, 
handing  back  change  in  the  same  way.  Every  time  the 
fisherman  handled  his  fish  he  washed  his  hands  and  scoop ; 
most  of  their  hands  were  painful  to  look  upon,  swollen 
and  white. 

Opposite  the  Tydskebryggen  or  German  Quay,  which 
faces  the  old  wooden  "gaards"  or  houses  in  which  the 
clerks  of  the  Hanseatic  League  lived,  stand  great  square 
wooden  tanks  on  a  jetty.  These  are  kept  filled  with  salt 
water  for  the  live  fish.  This  jetty  on  market-days  is 
neither  savoury  nor  clean.  The  fishermen  stand  behind 
the  tanks  in  complete  suits  of  yellow  oil-skins  and  sea- 
boots.  Most  of  them  are  fair,  flaxen,  or  red-headed. 
Standing  as  they  do,  with  the  mast  spars  and  cordage 
of  their  square-rigged  ships  as  a  background,  they  re- 
mind one  more  of  the  Vikings  than  any  picture,  saga, 
or  tale  that  I  have  ever  seen  or  heard.  Place  a  pair 


TYD3KEBRYGGEN,    BERGEN 


MODERN  VIKINGS  ill 

of  wings  on  the  fisherman's  sou'wester,  and  he  might  be 
Eric  the  red,  Harald  blue  tooth,  or  Olaf  Tryggvason 
himself. 

Personally,  I  would  much  rather  buy  my  fish  dead, 
but  the  good  wives  of  Bergen  think  otherwise.  They 
pass  from  tank  to  tank,  watching  the  fish  swim,  and 
point  to  the  one  that  takes  their  fancy.  In  goes  the 
fisherman's  spoon  -  shaped  net,  and  in  a  moment  the 
fish  lies  flapping  and  splashing  the  water  in  a  floating 
wooden  tray.  If  approved,  sudden  death  overtakes 
it;  a  knife-slit  at  the  back  of  the  head,  a  slit  across 
the  neck,  then  a  piece  off  the  tail,  and  the  fish  is 
placed  in  the  basket  or  pail  in  a  very  much  quicker 
time  than  it  takes  to  write.  Should  the  fish  not  be 
approved,  the  Viking  sends  it  back  into  the  tank  with 
a  splash,  that  covers  the  bystanders  with  water,  and 
turns  on  his  heel.  The  men  were  splendid,  but  having 
seen  the  tanks  and  their  occupants  once,  I  should  never 
care  to  see  them  again. 

The  pier  on  which  we  stand  is  but  a  stone's  throw 
from  the  fine  open  quay,  with  its  long  row  of  old  timber 
houses  that  once  belonged  to  the  all-powerful  Hanseatic 
League.  The  older  houses  still  retain  the  signs  of  their 
bygone  owners,  such  as  a  cod-fish  crowned,  the  three- 
faced  king,  with  four  eyes  and  but  three  noses,  a  quaint 
carved  unicorn,  the  head  of  Medusa,  and  a  man's  head 
with  a  fur  cap,  that  might  have  come  from  Nishni 
Novgorod.  Each  front  is  a  gable  covered  with  lovely 
coloured  dull  red  tiles  from  above,  and  when  approaching 
the  town  from  the  fjord,  it  is  these  fine  red  roofs  clustered 
together  on  the  peninsula,  and  along  the  water-edge  of  the 
Vaagen,  that  give  the  touch  of  warmth  and  colour  so 
valuable  to  this  town  which  is  more  or  less  in  tears  the 
whole  year  through.  Unfortunately,  the  inhabitants  do  not 


112  DEFRAUDED  JEPSAB 

recognise  the  value  of  the  red  roofs.  The  newer  buildings 
are  being  covered  with  cold-coloured  slates,  and  the  walls 
stuccoed.  Soon  these  old  wooden  "  gaards,"  in  which  the 
merchants  of  Bremen  and  Liibeck  lived  and  kept  their 
stores  of  dried  fish,  will  be  demolished. 

One  alone,  known  as  Finnegaarden,  the  one  nearest  to 
the  market,  has  been  kept  as  a  museum  by  the  energy 
and  generosity  of  Mr.  I.  W.  Olsen.  He  not  only  gave 
the  houses,  but  collected  all  the  curious  old  objects  of 
the  period,  with  which  it  is  furnished.  The  coat-of- 
arms  of  the  League  was  the  half-eagle  and  the  crowned 
cod-fish,  with  a  larger  crown  covering  both.  This  hangs 
on  the  walls  close  to  the  fire-boxes  with  flint  and  steel. 
A  beautiful  brass  kettle  suspended  over  a  big  brass  basin, 
in  which  the  manager  was  wont  to  wash,  stands  in  the 
room.  Tankards  and  plates,  weights  for  selling  and 
buying,  testify  to  this  day  to  the  unfair  dealing  between 
the  League  and  its  victims.  Light  weights  for  buying, 
heavy  weights  for  selling,  the  farce  played  out  to  the 
end.  Each  great  ledger  begins  "  In  the  name  of  Jesu, 
Amen,11  followed  by  the  Christian  names  of  the  fishermen — 

Jepsab 
Jermisen 
Joseph 
Jurgen  .  .  . 

who,  poor  souls,  were  ever  kept  in  debt  by  the  manager, 
who  bought  their  fish  cheap,  and  with  leaded  weights 
in  exchange  for  goods,  sold  at  full  value  and  short 
measure.  The  League's  belief  in  its  manager's  honesty 
is  also  exemplified  by  the  money-box.  This  has  three 
different  keys,  which  necessitated  the  presence  of  the 
three  managers  before  it  could  be  opened. 

A  lamp  held   me  fascinated   for    some    time    by    its 


THE  HANSEATIC  HOUSE  113 


ingenuity.  Imagine  three  black  iron  developing 
of  different  sizes  suspended  one  above  the  other,  with 
a  square  black  piece  of  iron  at  the  top  to  prevent  the 
smoke  from  blackening  the  rafters.  A  wick  was  placed 
in  a  lip  at  each  corner  of  the  dishes,  and  fed  with  cod- 
liver  oil.  The  whole  when  hanging  had  the  appearance 
of  a  Chinese  pagoda  with  twelve  lights.  Fine  old  carved 
chairs  upholstered  in  painted  leather,  and  a  quaint  table 
with  heavy  ball  and  pillar  legs,  help  to  furnish  an  oak- 
panelled  room.  In  this  room  is  the  merchant's  office, 
enclosed  in  glass  windows,  where  like  a  spider  he  sat 
awaiting  his  prey. 

Each  "  gaard  "  was  presided  over  by  a  "  Bygherre,"  and 
was  divided  into  "  staver  "  or  offices,  belonging  to  different 
owners,  each  owner  having  a  clerk  and  one  or  more  servants. 
On  the  ground-floor  were  the  warehouses,  each  with  its 
little  sliding  shutter  close  to  the  ground  for  the  ingress 
and  egress  of  the  cat  that  caught  the  rats.  On  the  first 
floor  is  the  outer  room  leading  to  the  manager's  office, 
with  his  dining-room  and  bedroom  behind.  On  the 
second  floor  are  the  rooms  for  the  clerks  and  servants. 
Strict  rules,  precautions,  and  fines  were  made  to  prevent 
the  Germans  from  intermarrying  with  the  Norwegians. 
No  maid  was  allowed  to  enter  the  men's  room  on  pain 
of  death,  but  this  was  seldom  if  ever  enforced,  a  fine 
sufficing.  In  an  old  print  hanging  in  one  of  the  rooms, 
this  German  quay  is  shown  surrounded  by  walls  with  a 
gate  at  either  end.  These  gates  were  kept  locked  at 
night  by  the  authorities  of  Bergen,  as  the  two  thousand 
Germans  in  residence  were  considered  a  distinct  menace 
to  the  town.  The  guns,  too,  of  the  Rosenkrantz  Tower 
were  kept  trained  so  as  to  enfilade  the  Tydskebryggen. 

Mr.     Richard    Lodge    tells    us    that     the    Hanseatic 
League  took  its   name   from  the  word  "Hansa,"  which 
8 


114  HISTORY  OF  THE  LEAGUE 

at  first  signified  a  troop,  or  military  muster.  From 
this  came  the  general  sense  of  union,  and,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  a  union  for  mercantile  purposes.  Later,  the  word 
came  to  have  another  meaning,  that  of  a  tax,  paid  by 
traders  for  the  right  of  forming  such  a  union. 

Germans  were  always  great  at  business,  and  in  very 
old  days  the  traders  of  some  of  the  northern  towns — 
Cologne,  Dortmund,  Bremen,  and  Hamburg — joined 
together  in  a  guild.  They  had  mercantile  settlements 
in  Wisby,  London,  Novgorod,  Bergen,  and  Bruges.  Even 
so  far  back  as  the  reign  of  Saxon  Edgar,  we  find  the 
Germans  prominent  in  London  trade  and  joining  in  a 
league.  In  1260  a  charter  of  Henry  m.  gave  protection 
to  all  German  merchants.  Liibeck  joined  Hamburg  in 
the  Hansa  Alumanniae,  which  soon  after  rose  to  great 
importance,  and  gradually  from  a  league  of  merchants 
abroad  became  a  union  of  towns  at  home.  In  1330 
mentionis  first  made  of  a  Hanse  Town ;  and  in  1343  Magnus 
of  Norway  designated  the  League  as  the  Hansa,  thus 
giving  it  a  diplomatic  position.  Denmark  was  always 
more  or  less  opposed  to  German  interest.  In  1361, 
Waldemar  m.  captured  Wisby,  and  the  Hansa  in  the 
following  year  took  Copenhagen,  for  the  allied  towns 
were  quite  able  to  make  war  on  their  own  account. 
Denmark  fell  entirely  into  the  hands  of  the  League,  and 
it  was  stipulated  that  henceforth  no  king  should  reign 
in  the  country  without  the  consent  of  the  Hanse  towns. 
Now  they  appear  to  have  reached  the  zenith  of  their 
power. 

Aristocratic  in  character,  the  yearly  assemblies  busied 
themselves  with  all  the  details  of  foreign  policy.  But 
there  were  many  dissensions,  for  the  towns  lay  scattered 
over  a  large  territory  extending  from  Russia  to  the  low 
countries,  and  their  interests  often  clashed.  During 


DECLINE  OF  THE  TRADE  115 

the  fifteenth  century  there  was  plenty  of  fighting,  and 
the  Hansa  held  its  own. 

However,  English  and  Dutch  now  began  to  rival  the 
trade  of  the  League.  The  herrings  made  a  change,  too, 
in  their  habits,  and  came  now  to  the  coasts  of  Holland, 
instead  of  the  fjords  of  Norway,  where  the  merchants  of 
Germany  had  for  long  held  a  practical  monopoly  of  the 
fisheries.  Then  the  discoverers  of  the  New  World,  and 
the  road  to  India  by  the  Cape,  came,  and  the  League 
began  to  decline,  for  the  Hanse  towns  were  far  away  from 
the  trade  routes.  Gradually  the  more  distant  towns 
began  to  fall  away.  The  Reformation  only  strengthened 
the  hands  of  the  lay  princes,  and  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth  the  privileges  which  had  been  granted  in 
London  to  the  Hanse  merchants  from  the  time  of 
Henry  in.  were  taken  from  them.  The  Thirty  Years1 
War  gave  yet  another  stroke  at  the  power  of  the  League, 
and  in  1669  the  last  general  assembly  was  held.  The 
trade  with  Norway  in  salt  cod  still  went  on  for  nearly 
one  hundred  years,  but  in  1764  their  last  store  or  office 
was  sold  to  a  Norseman.  From  these  comptoir  the 
German  merchants  got  the  name  of  "  Kontorske." 
They  had  forcibly  excluded  the  traders  of  all  other 
nations ;  even  the  Norwegians  themselves  were  not 
allowed  to  participate  until  the  time  of  Christopher 
Valkendorf,  who  opposed  their  oppressive  sway. 

The  nearest  corner  of  the  haven  seemed  to  be  the 
wood  market.  The  townspeople  came  down  with  carts 
and  hand-barrows  and  bargained  for  as  much  firewood 
as  they  could  load.  Two  upright  posts  painted  with 
divisions  stood  on  the  quay,  and  between  these  the 
short  lengths  of  birch  and  fir  were  built  up  to  make 
a  sort  of  wall ;  the  price  of  the  firewood  depending 
on  the  height  of  the  division  on  the  posts.  There  was 


ii6  THE  PRIMITIVE  JAGTER 

no  middleman,  and  during  the  slack  times,  when 
customers  were  few  and  far  between,  the  crews  loafed 
and  spat. 

The  craft  were  wonderfully  primitive,  clinker-built 
of  soft  wood,  and  of  about  sixty  tons,  each  had  but  one 
tall  tapering  mast,  stepped  right  amidships,  generally 
scarfed  and  fished  one-third  up.  The  rigging  was  of 
hemp,  set  up  with  wooden  dead  eyes,  and  worn  lanyards. 
There  was  a  forlorn  look  about  the  great  square  sail,  as 
though  it  might  be  conscious  of  being  hopelessly  out  of 
date.  There  were  no  reef  points,  for  nearly  half  the 
area  of  the  sail  was  made  up  of  narrow  bonnets  laced 
together  one  under  the  other,  so  that  in  strong  winds  it 
was  only  necessary  to  unlace  one  or  more  bonnets  to  be 
under  snug  canvas  at  once — a  survival  this  from  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  strange  old  craft  had  bluff', 
flaring  bows,  with  stems  standing  some  7  or  8  feet 
above  the  gunwale,  like  those  of  the  Maltese  Dysos. 
The  great  square  transoms  had  windows  similar  to  the 
gun-room  ports  of  an  old  three-decker,  and  all  round  the 
poops  soft  wood  timberheads  stood  up.  The  only 
new-fangled  object  on  board  was  the  winch,  for  hoisting 
the  great  square  sail.  This  was  right  aft,  close  to  the 
helmsman,  and  when  the  yard  was  mastheaded  the  whole 
of  the  greasy  wire  whip  was  wound  up  on  the  ban-el 
of  the  winch  just  like  black  cotton  on  a  bobbin,  and 
when  the  pawls  were  lifted,  and  the  band-brake 
eased,  the  likeness  to  the  cotton  reel  was  still  more 
marked ;  and  aloft  there  were  Irish  pennants  in  pro- 
fusion. 

An  affable  stranger  seeing  our  interest  in  the  timber 
jagter  began  to  explain  their  characteristics.  "These 
ships  very  national.  Very  old :  ever  since  the  time  of 
ancient  Vikings.  Very  good  with  wind  behind;  but 


QUEER  SEAMANSHIP  117 

with  head-wind  no  good.  How  many  ?  Three  men 
dey  work  em  from  the  Nordfjord,  sometimes  three 
days,  sometimes  three  weeks.  No  hurry?  yes,  but  dey 
want  to  get  home  to  cut  hay,  these  men  farmers.  No ; 
dey  never  carry  cod-fish,  always  timber.  Fine  trees  up 
dare,  quite  as  good  as  American  pitch  pine.  Steamers  ? 
No ;  but  some  has  petrol  engines.11 

I  once  watched  one  of  these  beating  to  windward; 
and  as  the  skipper  put  his  helm  hard  down,  the  sail 
falling  aback,  not  only  stopped  the  old  craft  dead,  but 
pushed  her  back  stern  first,  and  the  helm  had  to  be 
reversed  before  she  would  fall  off.  At  last,  when  nearly 
round  on  the  other  tack,  the  crew  swung  the  yard,  but 
just  at  that  moment  the  wind  unfortunately  came  round 
too,  and  away  went  the  poor  old  ship  stern  first,  and 
again  the  yard  had  to  be  braced  on  the  old  tack. 
Fancy  beating  up  a  narrow  channel  with  fluky  winds 
striking  off  from  the  lofty  cliffs,  in  an  antiquated  old 
packet,  rigged  for  all  the  world  like  the  galley  of 
Ulysses  or  the  ships  that  brought  Solomon  his  gold 
from  Tarshish.  Straightway  we  are  carried  back  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  into  the  reign  of  the  merry 
monarch,  and  of  King  Frederick  in. — the  days  of  the 
Hanseatic  League,  with  all  its  oppressive  monopolies  and 
extortions. 

The  jagter  piled  high  with  their  great  stacks  of  dried 
stock-fish,  and  the  wooden,  barn-like  storehouses  where 
the  evil-smelling  cargoes  are  piled,  are  but  modern 
representations  of  the  great  trade  which  has  gone  on 
steadily  and,  as  far  as  outward  appearance  is  concerned, 
without  change  for  almost  a  thousand  years.  For  the 
greater  part  of  this  long  time  the  German  merchants 
kept  everything  in  their  own  hands. 

Very  interesting   was   a    drawing    of  Van  de   Velde's 


ii8  OLD-TIME  BATTLES 

that  we  came  across  in  the  museum,  depicting  a  battle 
that  was  fought  in  1665,  when  the  English  fleet  tried 
to  capture  the  Dutch  fleet  that  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  harbour.  If  one  may  judge  from  Van  de  Velde's 
drawing  of  the  battle,  the  English  must  have  got  quite 
as  much  as  they  bargained  for.  The  Dutch,  both 
Indiamen  and  men-o'-war,  are  represented  moored  stem 
to  stem  in  a  line  which  stretches  right  across  the  mouth 
of  the  haven,  so  that  all  their  broadsides  bear  on  the 
British  fleet.  These  are  shown  in  the  forefront  of 
the  picture,  anchored  in  more  or  less  confusion,  with 
their  topsail-yards  on  the  caps,  heading  all  ways  at 
once.  A  heavy  fire  is  being  kept  up,  not  only  by  the 
Hollanders,  but  by  the  Rosenkrantz  Tower,  which  flies 
the  Danish  flag,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  front  of  the 
fortress  of  Bergenhus  is  bristling  with  cannon,  all  trained 
upon  the  intruding  English.  The  round  shot  our  fleet 
fired  back  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  castle  walls,  gilded, 
to -make  them  the  more  conspicuous. 

Besides  the  Van  de  Velde  drawing,  there  is  an  English 
print  of  the  same  period.  Here  we  have  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  old  Bergen,  and  the  two  fleets  are  shown  closely 
engaged. 

If  one  walks  down  to  the  end  of  the  jetty  to  the 
west  of  Faestningsbrygge,  and  looks  up  the  Vaagen 
towards  the  red-roofed  town,  one  can  in  fancy  picture 
the  old  sea-fight.  The  castle  walls  still  stand  just 
as  they  did  in  the  time  of  Van  de  Velde.  The  rig  of 
the  jagter  has  not  altered  in  any  way.  We  have 
but  to  shut  out  one  or  two  of  the  ugly  new  houses, 
and  try  to  believe  that  the  clouds  of  steam  which  rise 
from  countless  steam -winches  all  along  the  busy  quay 
is  smoke  from  the  guns,  which  still  grin  from  the 
batteries  under  the  Tower  of  Rosenkrantz.  Just  at 


this  moment  the  cannon  really  begin  to  fire,  for  this 
is  the  birthday  of  the  little  Prince  Olaf.  As  the  great 
cloud  of  vapour  rolls  over  us,  we  catch  the  unmistakable 
savour  of  villainous  saltpetre ;  and  whilst  the  Royal 
salute  lasts,  one  has  but  to  twist  the  forms  of  the  tramp 
steamers,  so  that  lofty  poops  rise,  all  carved  and  gilded, 
and  the  derricks  are  changed  to  lateen  mizzens  and 
spritsail  masts. 

Samuel  Pepys,  in  1665,  the  year  of  the  plague,  relates 
in  his  Diary  :  "  How  my  lord,'having  commanded  Teddiman, 
with  twenty-two  ships,  of  which  but  fifteen  could  get 
thither,  and  of  those  fifteen  but  eight  or  nine  could 
come  up  to  play,  to  go  to  Bergen ;  where,  after  several 
messages  to  and  from  the  governor  of  the  castle  urging 
that  Teddiman  ought  not  to  come  thither  with  more 
than  five  ships,  and  desiring  time  to  think  of  it,  all 
the  while  he  suffering  the  Dutch  ships  to  land  their 
guns  to  the  best  advantage,  Teddiman,  on  the  second 
pretence,  began  to  play  on  the  Dutch  ships,  whereof 
ten  East  Indiamen,  and  in  three  hours'  time,  the  town 
and  castle  without  any  provocation,  playing  on  our 
ships,  they  did  cut  all  our  cables,  so  the  wind  being 
off  the  land  did  force  us  to  go  out  and  rendered  our 
few  ships  useless,  without  doing  anything,  but  what 
hurt,  of  course,  our  guns  must  have  done  them :  we 
having  lost  five  commanders,  besides  Mr.  Edward 
Montague  and  Mr.  Windham.  Our  fleet  is  come  home, 
to  our  great  grief,  with  not  above  five  weeks'  dry  and 
six  days'  wet  provisions.'" 

A  little  farther  on  we  come  to  an  interview  with 
Lord  Sandwich  himself,  newly  up,  and  still  in  his  night- 
dress. "He  did  inform  us,  in  the  business  of  Bergen, 
so  as  to  let  us  see  how  the  judgment  of  the  world  is 
not  to  be  depended  on  i  things  they  know  not ;  it 


120  LUDVIG  HOLBERG 

being  a  place  just  wide  enough  and  so  much  hardly, 
for  ships  to  go  through  to  it,  the  yard-arms  sticking  in 
the  very  rocks.  He  do  not  upon  his  best  enquiry,  find 
reason  to  except  against  any  part  of  the  business  by 
Teddiman ;  he  having  staid  treating  no  longer  than 
during  the  night  while  he  was  fitting  himself  to  fight, 
bringing  his  ship  abreast  and  not  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
longer,  as  it  is  said ;  nor  could  more  ships  have  been 
brought  to  play,  as  it  is  thought.  Nor  could  men  be 
landed,  there  being  10,000  men  effectively  always 
in  arms  of  the  Danes ;  nor,  says  he,  could  we  expect 
more  from  the  Danes  than  he  did,  it  being  impossible 
to  set  fire  on  the  ships  but  it  must  burn  the  towne. 
But  that  whereon  the  Dane  did  amisse  is  that  he  did 
assist  them,  the  Dutch  all  the  time,  while  he  was 
treating  with  us  when  he  should  have  been  neutrall 
to  us  both.  But,  however,  he  did  demand  but  the 
treaty  of  us ;  which  is  that  we  should  not  come  with 
more  than  five  ships." 

In  front  of  the  Exchange  stands  the  statue  of  Ludvig 
Holberg,  in  periwig  and  full-skirted  coat — another  great 
man  that  first  saw  the  light  in  Bergen.  According  to 
Dr.  E.  W.  Gosse,  no  author  who  ever  lived  has  had 
so  vast  an  influence  as  Holberg  had  over  his  Scandinavian 
countrymen,  an  influence  that  is  still  at  work  after  two 
hundred  years.  He  it  was  who  founded  Danish  literature, 
and  who,  with  the  exception  of  Voltaire,  was  the  first 
writer  in  Europe  during  his  own  generation.  He  found 
Denmark  unprovided  with  books,  and  wrote  a  library 
for  her.  Holberg  filled  the  shelves  of  the  citizens  with 
works  in  their  own  tongue,  on  history,  law,  politics, 
science,  philology,  and  philosophy.  He  stands  another 
instance  of  a  man  fighting  his  way  to  the  top  of  his 
profession,  through  bitter  privations,  illness,  and  starva- 


HIS  EARLY  LIFE  121 

tion.  He  earned  what  money  he  could  by  teaching, 
and  for  some  time  was  a  poor  tutor  in  the  house  of  a 
rural  dean  at  Voss.  Later,  after  taking  his  degree,  he 
was  again  obliged  to  earn  his  living  teaching  in  the 
house  of  Dr.  Smidt,  vice-bishop  of  Bergen,  who  had 
travelled  much.  The  reading  of  Dr.  Smidt's  note- 
books awakened  such  a  longing  to  travel  in  young 
Holberg,  that  at  last,  in  1706,  having  scraped  together 
sixty  dollars,  he  started,  and  during  the  next  few 
years  visited  a  great  portion  of  Europe,  chiefly  on 
foot. 

He  travelled  through  London  to  Oxford,  where  he 
studied  for  two  years,  gaining  his  livelihood  by  giving 
lessons  on  the  violin  and  flute.  It  was  here  that  it 
first  occurred  to  him  "how  splendid  and  glorious  a 
thing  it  would  be  to  take  a  place  among  the  authors." 
It  was  not  till  1718  that  his  talents  were  recognised 
by  his  appointment  as  Professor  of  Metaphysics  at  the 
University  of  Copenhagen.  In  1720  he  was  promoted 
to  the  lucrative  chair  of  public  eloquence,  which  gave 
him  a  seat  in  the  Consistory,  and  brought  his  pecuniary 
troubles  to  an  end. 

Holberg  distinctly  marks  an  epoch.  He  overthrew 
the  trivialities  of  the  German  stage,  which  he  satirised 
without  mercy.  He  set  an  example,  never  surpassed, 
of  a  series  of  comedies,  taking  his  types  from  popular 
life,  and  ridiculing  with  healthy  directness  those  vices 
and  follies  which  were  the  theme  of  the  comic  drama 
of  the  time.  The  marvellous  rapidity  with  which  he 
wrote  can  be  judged  by  the  record  of  the  plays  written 
by  him  between  the  years  1722  and  1724  at  the  time 
that  he  took  up  the  direction  of  the  first  Danish  theatre 
built  in  Copenhagen. 

In  1747  he  was   made  Baron  of  Holberg,  and   lived 


122  HIS  DEATH 

on  for  seven  years  longer,  dying  at  the  age  of  seventy, 
and  was  buried  at  Soro.  Holberg^s  published  works  are 
legion.  But  the  best  edition  of  his  comedies  is  con- 
sidered to  be  the  one  brought  out  in  three  volumes  by 
F.  L.  Lichtenberg  in  1870. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
BERGEN— GRIEG— MUSIC 

BERGEN  had  shown  us  what  it  really  could  do  in  the 
way  of  rain.  All  day  long  it  had  poured  steadily, 
and  as  evening  drew  on,  it  still  rained.  A  pale  yellow 
river  flowed  in  the  gutters  and  down  the  roads,  in  the 
middle  of  which  it  left  deep  furrows.  Every  two  or 
three  hours  a  train  would  disgorge  its  passengers,  men 
and  women,  who  emerged  from  the  station  in  a  long 
straggling  line,  with  dripping  umbrellas  of  all  sorts  and 
sizes,  walked  to  the  corner  of  the  road,  where  all  dispersed 
each  on  his  own  business.  Then  silence  followed,  with 
nothing  to  break  it  but  the  dripping  of  the  trees.  There 
was  no  night,  the  daylight  simply  got  greyer  and  more 
drear  for  a  while,  and  then  about  11  p.m.  grew  lighter. 
A  yellow  band  appeared,  which  gradually  spread,  suffusing 
the  whole  sky.  The  new  day  was  born,  not  a  weeping 
day  like  the  one  just  past,  but  a  day  of  glorious  sunshine, 
that  made  the  many  roofs  shine  like  burnished  gold. 
The  train  left  at  seven,  passing  through  the  pleasant 
suburbs :  the  summer  residences  of  the  better  classes. 
The  houses  were  painted  white,  picked  out  with  green, 
pink,  or  yellow;  nice  enough  to  live  in  no  doubt,  but 
with  no  pretensions  to  architectural  beauty.  On  we  went 
past  gardens,  green  fields,  and  patches  of  oats  swaying  in 
the  warm  breezes ;  along  past  small  lakes,  till  the  head  of 
the  Nordaasvand  opened  out,  allowing  a  fleeting  glance  of 

123 


124  THE  NORDAASVAND 

beautiful  little  islands,  pleasant  villas,  and  wooded  slopes 
beyond. 

We  left  the  train  at  Hop  (pronounced  Hope)  and 
wended  our  way  up  a  dewy  lane  with  high  banks  on 
either  side,  the  brown  earth  still  moist  from  the  recent 
rain.  Walking  slowly  before  us,  and  every  now  and 
then  stopping,  and  leaning  on  his  stick,  to  drink  in 
the  fresh  beautiful  air,  was  the  slight  delicate  figure  of 
Norway's  great  composer,  Grieg,  a  figure  impossible  to 
mistake.  He  was  dressed  in  grey,  his  white  hair  hanging 
beneath  a  soft  felt  hat,  that  he  continually  raised,  to  greet 
the  many  respectful  bows  of  the  passing  peasants.  Over 
his  arm  hung  a  small  grey  shawl,  and  alongside  him 
walked  a  sturdy  maid.  As  we  passed,  his  glance  rested 
on  us  a  moment,  as  though  trying  to  recognise  a  friend. 
Diffidence,  however,  stepped  in,  and  we  went  on  our  way, 
till  we  reached  a  point  with  a  lovely  view  high  above  the 
shimmering  vand. 

Edvard  Grieg  has  certainly  chosen  a  beautiful  spot  to 
rest  after  the  heat  and  turmoil  of  the  day.  No  sound  but 
Nature's  own  music  breaks  the  peaceful  stillness.  Gently 
the  little  wavelets  gurgle,  as  they  turn  the  pebbles  on  the 
shore.  The  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the  light  wind  sing 
a  summer  song  of  their  own.  The  hay  lies  warm  and 
sweet  drying  in  the  sun.  Close  round  us  is  the  sharp 
chirp  of  the  grasshoppers.  In  the  far  distance  the 
high-pitched  voices  of  children  playing  in  the  warm 
shallows  of  the  lake  are  borne  upwards  on  the  breeze, 
and  farther  still  a  dog's  bark. 

The  lake  stretches  away  into  the  distance,  an  inland 
arm  of  the  Nordaasvand.  All  round  the  banks  slope 
gently,  thickly  wooded,  with  birch  and  mountain  ash  to 
the  water's  edge.  Bracken  clothes  the  rocky  part  of  the 
slopes,  and  crossing  and  recrossing  the  fields  are  the  long 


EDVARD  GRIEG  125 

fences  hung  with  the  drying  hay.  The  farmer,  his  wife 
in  her  pretty  red  bodice  and  big  white  cap,  their  son  and 
daughter,  are  all  as  busy  as  bees.  The  farmer  is  mowing 
the  tall  flower-spangled  grass,  his  wife  and  daughter  are 
lifting  and  hanging  the  hurdles  full,  while  the  son  is 
carting  home  the  dry  hay. 

One  long  arm  of  rock  stretches  away  from  under  the 
knoll,  on  the  top  of  which  stands  the  great  master's  house, 
in  some  views  looking  like  a  causeway  of  rock  jutting 
towards  the  farther  shore ;  but  in  others  detaching  itself 
into  small  green  islands.  The  knoll  is  thickly  clothed 
with  trees,  in  which  the  house  stands,  half  hidden,  and 
from  the  lookout  on  the  top  waves  the  fine  new,  free 
flag  of  Norway. 

The  sketch  was  finished,  and  about  to  be  placed  in  its 
case,  when  we  were  made  aware  that  strangers  were 
approaching  by  the  barking  of  a  little  dog,  who  had 
divided  his  attentions  between  us  and  the  farmer,  his 
master.  In  the  two  figures  walking  slowly  up  the  hill, 
one  was  at  once  recognisable  as  Edvard  Grieg.  As  he 
came  nearer,  he  put  out  his  hand,  and  said,  "  May  we  be 
allowed  to  see  ?  I  and  my  friend,  Mr.  Beyer  (who  allow 
me  to  present  to  you  as  my  very  dear  friend  and  constant 
companion),  were  taking  our  evening  stroll  and  perceived 
you  at  work." 

The  drawing  was  duly  admired,  and  must  be  shown 
Fra  Grieg,  so,  closing  the  paint  boxes,  the  two 
masters  walked  ahead,  whilst  Mr.  Beyer  and  I  followed. 
Mr.  Beyer  was  most  interesting  and  kind.  He  told  me 
that  for  over  twenty  years  the  great  master  had  been  his 
best  friend.  Mr.  Beyer  had  helped  him  to  collect  his 
folk-songs,  and  how  one  day  as  he  was  walking  along  he 
came  upon  a  girl  milking  a  cow  arid  singing  a  song  he 
had  never  heard.  "I  out  with  my  pencil  and  a  bit  of 


126  TROLDHAUGEN 

paper,  and  said  to  the  girl,  '  Sing  on  !  sing  on ! '     Whilst 
she  sang  I  wrote  the  notes  of  music  on  the  cow's  back.'" 

Noticing  the  frail  look  and  bent  back  of  the  master,  I 
asked,  "  Is  Mr.  Grieg  very  delicate  ?  "  "  Oh !  not  so  much 
as  he  looks.  He  is  not  a  strong  man,  but  he  is  careful. 
Oh  dear !  he  should  have  his  shawl  on.  See,  talking  to 
your  husband  he  has  forgotten  himself,"  and  he  ran  ahead, 
and  drawing  the  shawl  from  the  master's  arm  wrapped  it 
round  him.  We  had  reached  the  pretty  garden  full  of 
flowers,  Mr.  Grieg  opened  the  gate,  and,  as  he  did  so,  said, 
"  Welcome  to  Troldhaugen,"  and  escorted  us  to  the  house, 
whilst  Mr.  Beyer  went  to  find  Mrs.  Grieg. 

The  room  into  which  we  were  ushered  was  cosy,  and 
full  of  sun  and  colour.  On  the  walls  were  various  large 
and  small  laurel  wreaths  hid  with  the  gay  colours  belong- 
ing to  the  nations  whose  hearts  had  been  touched  by  the 
master's  sweet  music.  In  one  corner  stood  a  splendid 
bust  of  Bjornson,  with  a  great  wreath  hung  round  the 
neck,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  room  the  master's 
piano.  I  longed  to  open  it,  and  say  "  Play,"  but  did  not 
dare  presume.  So  we  chatted,  and  Fru  Grieg  came  in, 
all  charm  and  bustle,  looking  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  let 
loose.  She  admired  the  sketch,  and  showed  us  her 
pictures,  and  insisted  on  tea,  which  was  served  in  dainty 
blue  cups.  Just  about  to  show  us  her  garden,  she  was 
called  aside.  Coming  back,  Fru  Grieg  begged  us  to 
excuse  her,  as  the  doctor  had  arrived,  to  see  her  aged 
mother,  who,  poor  lady,  had  had  a  heavy  fall. 

Mr.  Grieg  said,  "  Come,  let  me  show  you  my  view,"  and 
he  and  Mr.  Beyer  led  us  through  the  garden  to  a  small 
mound  up  which  ran  a  narrow  path.  From  the  top  one 
looked  down  on  the  beautiful  vand.  Grieg  stood  quiet 
for  a  moment  gazing  on  the  lovely  panorama,  a  far-away 
look  in  his  kind  blue  eyes.  Turning  suddenly,  he  said, 


"JUST  A  BAR,  PLEASE"  127 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?  I  should  like  to  do  some- 
thing." I  passed  him  my  little  book.  "  Shall  I  write  my 
name  ?  "  "  Please  do."  "  Anything  else  ?  Poetry,  music, 
eh ! "  I  said,  "  Just  a  bar,  please."  To  my  delight,  he 
wrote  a  bar  of  the  piece  I  so  love,  and  passed  it  back. 


We  took  hands,  and  said  nice  things  while  strolling  back 
to  the  gate. 

One  thing  we  had  much  wished  had  come  to  pass.  We 
had  seen  and  spoken  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grieg.  Mr. 
Beyer  overtook  us  on  our  way  to  the  station,  and  again 
shook  hands,  saying  over  and  over,  "  So  delighted  to  see 
you."  He  told  us  how  on  one  occasion  he  was  in  a 
boat  with  Grieg  on  the  lake.  Grieg  sitting  still,  his 
head  full  of  inspirations,  began  to  scribble  on  pieces  of 
paper,  which,  as  he  filled,  he  laid  on  the  seat  beside  him. 
A  little  puff  of  wind  took  one  of  the  papers  to  Mr.  Beyer, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  thwart  behind.  He  picked  it  up  and 
softly  whistled  the  tune,  which  made  Grieg  look  round 
with  a  jump.  "Where  did  you  hear  that?"  "Oh," 
said  Mr.  Beyer,  "  only  a  little  tune  that  has  just  entered 
my  head,"  which  set  Grieg  marvelling,  that  such  an 
interchange  of  thought  could  take  place. 

It  is  nice  for  us  to  know,  that  though  Bergen  lays  claim 
to  this  great  master,  we,  in  our  turn,  can  claim  him  as 
belonging  in  the  first  place  to  us.  "  Are  you  Scotch  ?  " 
was  one  of  his  questions.  "So  am  I."  It  was  in  the 
troublous  times  after  the  Battle  of  Culloden,  when  every- 
thing seemed  lost,  that  many  Scotchmen  left  their 


128  GRIEG'S  FOREBEARS 

country,  and  amongst  them  was  a  merchant  named 
Alexander  Greig  of  Aberdeen,  who  emigrated  to  Norway, 
where  the  climate  (a  wee  bit  saft)  and  general  surround- 
ings sufficiently  resembled  his  beloved  home.  He  estab- 
lished himself  at  Bergen,  and  changed  his  name  to  Grieg, 
so  that  the  pronunciation  should  sound  the  same  in 
Norwegian.  Grieg  said  that  the  names  of  General  Greigh 
and  Elphinstone  had  been  impressed  on  him  when  his 
father  told  him  that  his  family  arms,  which  bore  a  ship, 
denoted  that  his  ancestor  was  in  all  probability  the 
Scotch  Admiral  Greigh. 

"To  the  question,  Who  is  the  most  original  and 
poetic  of  living  composers  ?  there  can  to-day  be  but  one 
answer :  Edvard  Grieg."  "  Grieg  is  recognised  far  beyond 
his  native  country  as  one  of  the  few  masters  who  have 
enriched  music  with  new  means  of  melody  and  harmonic- 
expression,  and  created  a  national  art  distinguished  by 
poetic  feeling  and  the  charm  of  many  moods.  He  has 
brought  it  about  that  Norwegian  moods,  and  Norwegian 
life,  have  entered  into  every  music-room  of  the  whole 
world ; "  and  "  The  north  is  most  assuredly  entitled  to 
a  language  of  its  own."  These  are  the  opinions  of  La 
Mara,  Georg  Capellen,  Bjb'rnson,  and  Robert  Schumann. 

Grieg's  great  talent  was  inherited  from  his  mother, 
Gesine  Judith  Hagerup,  who  devoted  much  of  her  time 
to  music.  Her  skill  was  so  great  that  she  was  able  to 
appear  as  soloist  at  concerts  in  Bergen.  Grieg  always 
remembers  the  remarkable  nerve  and  rhythmic  animation 
with  which  she  played  the  works  of  her  favourite,  Weber. 
His  mother  began  to  teach  him  when  he  was  only  six 
years  old,  and  succeeded  beyond  her  fondest  hopes.  "  Not 
that  it  was  all  easy  sailing  at  first.  I  had  to  practise 
just  what  was  unpleasant.  .  .  .  There  was  no  trifling 
with  her  if  I  spent  the  time  in  dreaming  at  the  piano 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  OLE  BULL          129 

instead  of  busying  myself  with  the  lesson  set.  .  .  .  My 
unpardonable  tendency  to  dreaming  was  already  beginning 
to  bring  me  the  same  difficulties  which  have  accompanied 
me  long  enough  throughout  my  life.  Had  I  not  inherited 
my  mother's  irrepressible  energy,  as  well  as  her  musical 
capacity,  I  should  never  in  any  respect  have  succeeded  in 
passing  from  dreams  to  deeds." 

Ole  Bull  it  was  that  discovered  the  great  gift  that  lay 
in  the  lad.  To  quote  Grieg's  own  words :  "  When  he 
heard  I  had  composed  music  I  had  to  go  to  the  piano ; 
all  my  entreaties  were  in  vain.  I  cannot  now  understand 
what  Ole  Bull  could  find  at  that  time  in  my  juvenile 
pieces.  But  he  was  quite  serious,  and  talked  quietly  to 
my  parents.  The  matter  of  their  discussion  was  by  no 
means  disagreeable  to  me.  For  suddenly  Ole  Bull  came 
to  me,  shook  me  in  his  own  way,  and  said :  '  You  are 
to  go  to  Leipzig,  and  become  a  musician ! '  Everybody 
looked  at  me  affectionately,  and  I  understood  just  one 
thing — that  a  good  fairy  was  stroking  my  cheeks,  and  that 
I  was  happy." 

At  the  Conservatory  his  first  teacher  was  the  renowned 
Plaidy,  followed  by  E.  F.  Wenzel,  the  gifted  friend  of 
Schumann,  and  the  famous  Ignaz  Moscheles.  There  were 
other  foreigners  at  the  Conservatory  at  the  same  time  as 
Grieg,  five  of  whom  subsequently  became  leaders  in  the 
musical  world  of  London.  Among  these  were  Sir  Arthur 
Sullivan,  Franklin  Taylor,  Walter  Bache,  Edward 
Dannreuther,  and  lastly  the  fine  musician  John  Francis 
Barnett.  These  English  boys  progressed  more  quickly 
than  Grieg  at  the  time.  Grieg  suddenly  realised  this, 
and  saw  that  he  would  have  to  submit  to  the  drudgery 
as  they  did,  and  he  went  from  one  extreme  to  the  other. 
He  worked  day  and  night,  with  the  result  that  he 
collapsed  in  the  spring  of  1860  with  lung  trouble,  which 
9 


130  RICHARD  NORDRAAK 

impaired  his  health  for  life.  Later  he  returned  to  the 
Conservatory,  and  in  the  spring  of  1860  passed  his  examina- 
tions with  credit.  Grieg  writes — 

"  I  played  some  pianoforte  pieces  of  my  own ;  they 
were  lame  productions  enough,  and  I  still  blush  to-day 
that  they  appeared  in  print  as  Opus  I. ;  but  it  is  a  fact 
that  I  had  an  immense  success,  and  was  called  for  several 
times."  So  his  career  began.  The  famous  Niels  W.  Gade 
did  much  to  encourage  him.  Grieg  had  arrived  at  the 
age  of  twenty,  and  was  asked  by  Gade  if  he  had  anything 
of  his  own  composition  to  show.  His  answer  was  that  he 
had  nothing  of  importance.  "  Very  well,  then,"  retorted 
Gade,  "  go  home  and  write  a  symphony."  A  fortnight 
later  he  had  composed  and  orchestrated  the  first  movement 
of  a  symphony,  with  which  Gade  was  much  pleased,  and 
spoke  words  of  encouragement  that  fired  the  young  man's 
ambition. 

It  was  at  Valestrand,  in  the  beginning  of  1864,  that 
Grieg  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with  the  great 
violinist  Ole  Bull.  They  made  excursions  together  into 
their  favourite  mountain  regions,  where  Ole  Bull  as  a  child 
had  fancied  he  heard  nature  sing  and  the  blue-bells  ring. 
The  consequences  were  inevitable.  Ole  Bull,  whose  motto 
was,  "  My  calling  is  Norse  music,"  was  pleased  to  have 
so  sympathetic  and  talented  a  young  companion.  To  hear 
such  a  man  play,  to  play  with  him,  to  accompany  him 
to  the  homes  of  the  peasants  and  hear  their  music,  this 
was  the  privilege  of  Edward  Grieg  at  twenty-one.  Then, 
too,  flourished  Richard  Nordraak,  a  young  Norwegian 
composer  of  rare  talent,  who  might  have  done  as  much  as 
Grieg  himself  had  not  death  carried  him  off  at  the  age 
of  twenty-four.  Even  in  this  short  span  of  life  he  created 
some  notable  works,  among  them  pianoforte  pieces,  set- 
ting of  his  cousin  Bjornson's  Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland, 


"JEG  ELSKER  DIG"  131 

Siguard  Slembe  and  the  patriotic  song  "  Ja  vi  elsker." 
Like  Ole  Bull,  he  was  patriot  to  the  verge  of  fanaticism. 
By  him  Grieg,  who  loved  his  fatherland  above  everything, 
had  his  feelings  fanned  to  a  bright  flame.  Up  to  this 
point  Grieg  had  felt  the  Leipzig  shackles,  and  was  some- 
what timid;  but  Nordraak's  courage  and  enthusiasm 
proved  contagious.  He  now  dared  to  be  himself,  and 
Norse.  He  wrote  his  four  "  Humeresken,"  Opus  6, 
dedicated  them  to  Nordraak,  and  the  die  was  cast. 

"  Jeg  elsker  dig "  (I  love  thee)  is  one  of  the  most 
impassioned  and  popular  of  love  songs.  The  date  of 
its  composition  is  1864.  In  that  year  Grieg  became 
engaged  to  his  cousin,  Miss  Nina  Hagerup,  love  for 
whom  had  inspired  him  to  set  to  music  H.  C.  Anderson's 
heartfelt  lines.  During  the  period  of  the  engagement 
(three  years)  to  his  Danish  bride,  Grieg  was  so  much 
under  Danish  influence  that  Schjelderup  speaks  of  it  as 
the  Danish  period  in  the  development  of  his  genius.  He 
was  married  in  1867,  and  was  much  helped  by  his  young 
wife.  The  year  1868-69  was  a  black  year  for  them  both. 
Grieg's  best  friend  and  ally,  Halfdan  Kjerulf,  died.  The 
latter,  born  in  1815,  was  really  the  first  of  the  Norwegian 
national  composers.  Among  his  compositions  there  are 
about  a  hundred  songs  and  forty  piano  pieces  that  are 
mostly  tinged  with  Norse  colour.  He  has  been  referred 
to  as  a  martyr,  but  Grieg  writes :  "  Kjerulf  lived  in 
Christiania  as  a  teacher  and  composer,  appreciated  by  all." 
Next  year  Grieg's  little  thirteen-months-old  daughter  died. 
This  was  the  only  child  born  to  them,  and  their  cup  of 
bitterness  seemed  emptied  to  the  dregs. 

In  1868  Franz  Liszt  wrote  to  him  from  Rome  a  letter  full 
of  praise,  after  perusal  of  his  sonata  (Opus  8),  inviting  him 
cordially  to  spend  some  time  at  Weimar.  Commendation 
from  so  great  a  man  as  Liszt  induced  the  Norwegian 


132  FRANZ  LISZT 

Government  to  grant  Grieg  a  sum  of  money  which  enabled 
him  to  visit  Rome  and  meet  Liszt  personally.  He  wrote 
two  letters  home  that  are  too  long  to  reproduce  here,  but 
which  are  of  the  greatest  interest,  showing  how  fully  Liszt 
appreciated  his  splendid  talent.  After  Liszt  had  given 
him  a  grand  exhibition  of  his  own  tremendous  musical 
power  he  turned  to  Grieg  and  said  jauntily  :  "  Now  let 
us  go  on  with  the  sonata."  Grieg  continues:  "You 
must  bear  in  mind,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  had  never 
seen  or  heard  the  sonata ;  and  in  the  second  place,  that 
it  was  a  sonata  with  a  violin  part,  now  above,  now  below, 
independent  of  the  pianoforte  part.  And  what  does 
Liszt  do  ?  He  plays  the  whole  thing  root  and  branch, 
violin  and  piano, — nay,  more,  for  he  played  fuller,  more 
broadly.  The  violin  got  its  due  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  piano  part.  He  was  literally  over  the  whole  piano 
at  once,  without  missing  a  note,  and  how  he  did  play." 
Grieg  left  the  house  feeling  strangely  hot  in  his  head, 
but  with  the  consciousness  of  having  spent  two  of  the 
most  interesting  hours  in  his  life. 

After  his  return  from  Rome  in  the  following  year  he 
founded  the  "Musical  Society"  in  Christiania,  largely 
helped  by  Johan  Svendsen,  who  became  his  successor 
when  he  left  the  capital  in  1874.  Johan  Svendsen's  co- 
operation with  Grieg  in  the  sixties  and  seventies,  and 
his  subsequent  wide-ranging  activity  as  conductor  and 
composer,  have  left  their  ineffaceable  traces  in  the 
Norwegian  musical  world.  His  works,  apart  from  his 
employment  and  arrangement  of  national  airs,  have  not 
the  same  strongly  national  character  as  those  of 
Grieg,  but  he  possesses  sense  of  form  and  the  art 
of  instrumentation  to  a  remarkable  degree,  is  a  born 
symphonist  and  orchestral  conductor.  His  symphonies, 
fantasies,  Norse  Carnival  transcriptions  for  string 


PEER  GYNT  133 

orchestra,  chamber  music,  romances,  and  male  choruses 
are  all  of  the  greatest  artistic  value.  Grieg  and  Svendsen 
were  justly  honoured  and  rewarded  by  the  Norwegian 
Government,  who  presented  each  with  an  annuity  of 
d£*88  a  year  for  life. 

Here  another  man,  one  of  the  wonderful  group  of 
great  men  of  our  time,  makes  his  entry  into  Grieg's 
life.  Henrik  Ibsen,  on  the  23rd  day  of  January  1874, 
writes  to  him  from  Dresden  a  long  letter,  asking  if 
he  is  willing  to  co-operate  with  him,  and  write  the 
music  for  his  Peer  Gynt.  Ibsen  goes  on  to  say:  "The 
following  is  what  I  have  in  view.  I  intend  to  arrange 
Peer  Gynt — of  which  a  third  edition  is  to  appear  soon — 
for  performance  on  the  stage.  Will  you  write  the  required 
music?  Let  me  tell  you  as  briefly  as  possible  how  I 
project  the  structure  of  the  play.1' 

Then  follows  long  explanations  of  the  greatest  interest, 
and  he  finishes  this  letter,  that  was  all  the  world  to  Grieg, 
with  the  following  words — 

"  Such,  approximately,  is  my  plan,  and  I  now  beg  you 
to  let  me  know  if  you  are  willing  to  undertake  the 
work.  If  you  consent,  I  shall  at  once  communicate  with 
the  director  of  the  Christiania  Theatre.  .  .  .  Your 
devoted  friend,  HENRIK  IBSEN  " 

Grieg  lost  no  time,  but  got  to  work  at  Sandviken,  near 
Bergen,  and  from  his  pen  flowed  the  inspired  music 
which,  more  than  any  of  his  other  works,  has  made  him 
known  as  an  original  and  fascinating  composer. 

In  1877  he  again  left  Christiania,  to  which  he  had 
returned  after  his  first  hearing  of  Peer  Gynt,  and  went 
to  live  at  Lofthus.  But  the  curiosity  of  the  tourists 
was  too  much  for  him  ;  they  had  a  habit  of  watching 


134  SOR  FJORD 

him  from  boats  outside  his  windows,  and  they,  the 
common  herd,  at  last  drove  him  away  in  1885  from  a 
spot  he  loved.  He  made  his  home  at  Hop,  building 
his  villa  Troldhaugen,  where  he  now  lives. 

After  leaving  Hop  the  train  dawdles  along  to  Nestun, 
where  the  line  makes  a  very  sharp  bend,  striking  off  north- 
north-east.  Up  a  valley  called  Langedal,  over  brawling 
streams  and  past  mountain  lakes.  Soon  we  began  to 
run  downhill  to  the  banks  of  the  Arnevaag,  an  inky 
narrow  inlet.  Here  were  a  village  and  church  for  all 
the  world  like  a  little  model  from  a  toy  box.  The  line 
now  made  a  sharp  bend  to  the  south-east,  all  along 
the  rocky  shore  of  the  winding  Sor  Fjord.  At  the  foot 
of  the  steep  hills  were  many  little  boat-houses,  each 
with  its  little  slipway  over  the  boulder-strewn  shore. 
There  were  riost  queer  traps  for  catching  fish  moored 
to  buoys  out  in  the  fjord,  looking  like  large  set  pieces 
for  fireworks  lying  on  their  backs  or  propositions  in 
Euclid.  One  of  them  would  have  done  very  well  for 
the  j9ons  asinorum. 

On  the  island  of  Ostero  across  the  water  was  the  neat 
white  little  wooden  church  of  Haus,  more  like  a  toy 
than  ever,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  great  hummocky 
mountains  which  towered  into  the  sky  almost  covered 
with  birch  trees. 

On  we  went,  sometimes  through  woods,  then  out 
along  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  through  tunnels  with  now 
and  then  a  leap  over  a  torrent,  then  more  tunnels,  and 
then  out  upon  a  narrow  ledge  cut  in  the  grey  walls  of 
rock,  which  stretch  upward,  dark  and  gloomy,  to  the 
clouds,  where  patches  of  snow  linger  in  the  crannies. 
The  fjord  narrows  here  to  little  more  than  500  yards. 
Parts  of  Ostero  look  very  desolate,  and  opposite  Stanghelle 
there  were  only  two  minute  white  cottages,  one  close 


BOLSTAD  FJORD  135 

by  the  water  and  the  other  high  up  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  great  hill.  I  wonder  if  the  neighbours  are  good 
friends,  or  if  they  quarrel  ?  There  is  no  one  else  to  talk 
to  for  miles  and  miles.  Here  the  line  bends  once 
more  to  the  right,  and,  leaving  tidal  waters,  climbs  up 
the  Dals-Elv  between  upright  walls  of  stone,  broken 
here  and  there  where  the  rocks  have  tumbled  in  con- 
fusion from  the  misty  mountain  tops. 

There  is  a  bright  green  flat,  smooth  and  wide,  where 
the  farmers  are  cutting  odd-shaped  lanes  and  squares 
in  the  standing  grass,  or  piling  the  hay  on  hurdles 
to  dry.  Then  we  pass  a  plank  church,  the  windows 
made  with  the  glass  quite  flush  with  the  weather  board- 
ing, and  the  narrow  wooden  mullions  cut  into  grotesque 
imitations  of  a  Gothic  window.  After  that  follow  more 
tunnels  and  woods  of  birch,  when  suddenly  we  burst 
out  on  the  tidal  waters  of  the  Bolstad  Fjord.  For 
a  moment  there  is  a  marvellous  vision  of  rugged  crag 
and  wooded  dell,  all  mirrored  in  the  glassy  surface. 
Then  more  tunnels,  some  of  them  pierced  with  little 
peep-holes,  through  which  we  catch  tantalising  glimpses 
of  placid  waters.  Out  again  on  a  little  terrace  cut  half 
way  up  a  cliff.  Lower  down  we  see  for  a  moment  the 
road  blasted  out  of  the  rock,  and  winding  along  a  few 
feet  above  the  water's  edge.  On  the  other  bank  is  a 
tiny  farm  set  on  a  triangular  patch  of  soil,  which  seems 
to  have  slipped  down  bodily  from  the  mountain, — a  sort 
of  "Tom  all  alone"  surrounded  by  lofty  cliffs.  Next 
we  catch  sight  of  a  moraine  left  here  by  the  old  glaciers, 
now  covered  with  farms  and  bright  green  fields. 

At  Evanger  the  cultivation  spreads  up  the  steep 
mountain  side  just  like  a  patchwork  quilt  made  of  many 
different  tints  of  green  stuffs.  On  the  lake  the  villagers 
were  rowing  to  church,  all  in  their  Sunday  broadcloth. 


136  THE  VOSSE-ELV 

And  as  they  fly  past,  and  drop  out  of  sight,  a  great 
waterfall  takes  their  place,  tumbling  headlong  into  a 
black  chasm  worn  in  the  rock,  a  wonderful  contrast  to 
the  clusters  of  harebell  and  meadowsweet  or  the  peaceful 
hay  fields  that  scent  the  air. 

Nearing  Voss,  the  waters  of  the  Vosse-Elv  come  rushing 
down,  a  mighty  torrent  of  boiling,  seething,  white  and 
green  water,  the  course  of  the  river  checked  by  a  huge 
boulder  in  the  centre.  The  whole  volume  of  water 
splits  and  tears  round  through  two  narrow  channels 
between  the  boulder  and  the  banks.  These  streams  meet 
again,  forming  a  cauldron  of  spirting,  rushing,  roaring, 
and  whirling  foam.  In  parts  the  stream  was  very  strong, 
and  covered  with  whirling  eddies.  In  the  slack  water 
were  the  first  salmon  ladders  we  had  come  across. 

Vossevangen  was  just  a  little  disappointing  after  the 
beautiful  scenery  that  had  led  up  to  it.  Being  Sunday, 
all  the  good  folk  that  were  able  had  joined  the  train 
at  the  various  stations  on  the  way  to  their  favourite 
churches.  The  married  women  were  dressed  in  black 
sateen  skirts  closely  pleated  round  the  waist,  tight-fitting 
bodices,  and  the  most  funereal  black  silk  bonnets  that 
can  be  imagined.  These  had  dangling  black  oats  at  the 
top,  broad  black  strings  tied  in  a  severe  bow  under  the 
chin,  and  a  short  black  frill  at  the  back.  Their  faces 
looked  melancholy,  or  shall  we  say  devout  ?  They  really 
must  have  looked  melancholy,  as  all  my  sympathy  went 
out  to  a  group  that  alighted  from  the  train  at  Evanger. 
These  walked  two  and  two,  wending  their  way  across 
the  bridge  which  spans  the  Vosse-Elv  to  the  little 
church  beyond. 

A  young  woman  came  first,  carrying  a  child,  but  so 
wrapped  up  that  by  the  look  on  her  face  I  assumed  it 
to  be  very  ill,  if  not  dead.  Older  women  followed  with 


VOSSVANGEN 


THE  CEREMONY  OF  "NAME  FASTENING"  137 

bowed  heads,  their  hands  clasped  over  their  prayer-books. 
The  rear  was  brought  up  by  a  group  of  men,  all  in  black 
cloth  and  soft  black  clerical  hats.  Quite  a  mournful 
note  they  made  as  they  walked  through  the  fields,  bright 
with  crimson  foxglove  and  lacy  heads  of  cow  parsley.  I 
heard  later  that  this  was  a  christening  party.  The  faces 
of  the  women  might  have  been  accounted  for  had  the 
christening  been  a  matter  of  life  and  death,  as  it  was  a 
thousand  years  ago  when  the  new-born  infant  was  laid 
on  the  floor  to  await  the  arrival  of  its  father. 

This  Viking  or  Spartan,  on  entering  the  room,  had  the 
infant  placed  upon  his  knee.  If  he  accepted  the  child 
as  his  own  he  was  wont  to  cover  it  with  a  fold  of  his 
cloak.  Then  he  looked  at  his  child  intently,  to  judge 
of  its  appearance,  proportions,  luck,  and  temper,  and, 
satisfying  himself  that  the  new-born  offspring  was  well 
shaped,  he  decided  whether  it  should  live  or  be  exposed. 
Then  took  place  the  most  important  and  sacred  ceremony 
of  "name  fastening,"  or  baptism,  the  sprinkling  of 
water  upon  the  child,  a  holy  custom  that  had  come  down 
from  the  remotest  time,  being  lost  in  the  mist  of  ages. 
A  vessel  filled  with  water  was  brought  in,  which  the 
father  poured  over  the  child,  at  the  same  time  calling 
in  a  loud  voice,  so  that  all  men  should  hear  him,  some- 
thing like  the  following :  "  Ivar  shall  the  boy  be  named, 
after  his  grandfather.  He  will  of  Odin's  family  the  fore- 
most man  be  called.  He  will  fight  many  battles,  and 
be  much  like  his  mother;  he  will  be  called  his  father's 
son,  for  he  will  wage  war  from  early  age,  and  wander  far 
and  wide.11 

After  the  ceremony  the  life  of  the  infant  was  sacred. 
His  father  had  no  longer  power  to  expose  him,  or  to 
take  his  life ;  should  he  do  so  it  would  be  murder.  It 
seems  like  a  dispensation  of  Providence  for  the  poor 


138  VOSS 

mother  that  after  these  events,  which  would  be  most 
harrowing  for  her,  had  taken  place,  the  utmost  silence 
was  enjoined  to  allow  the  inseparable  triad  or  trinity — 
Urd  "the  Past,"  Verdandi  "the  Present,"  and  Skuld 
"  the  Future  " — to  forecast  the  life  of  the  infant.  These 
three  genii  shaped  or  foreordained  the  life  of  every 
human  being  at  its  birth.  Du  Chaillu  tells  us  so  in 
his  romantic  history  of  Ivar  the  Viking. 

But  this  is  a  digression.  I  was  about  to  mention  the 
lasses  who  walked  about  Voss  without  black  bonnets 
or  anything  else  on  their  youthful  heads.  They  wore 
pretty  red  close-fitting  bodices,  fine  white  full-sleeved 
shirts,  lace  aprons,  and  black  skirts.  A  prettier  dress, 
or  more  dainty,  could  not  be  found  in  a  long  day's  march. 
Unfortunately,  like  most  good  things,  this  rural  fashion 
is  going  out,  and  the  ugly  ill-fitting  blouse  and  skirt 
taking  its  place.  Soon  the  national  dress  will  be  worn 
by  the  waiting-maids  alone. 

We  had  thought  one  day  would  be  sufficient  for  Voss, 
but  somehow  this  drew  out  into  three,  and  if  time  had 
allowed  no  doubt  three  more  days  could  have  been  well 
spent.  It  was  the  perfect  peace  that  pervaded  the 
place  that  made  it  so  delightful.  For  hours  we  sat 
amongst  the  tall  grass,  the  light  breeze  rippling  the 
flowers  and  carrying  with  it  the  sounds  of  the  workers 
around  and  in  the  village  below.  Voss  will  ever  be  associated 
in  my  mind  with  the  voices  of  the  women,  which  drifted 
up  to  us  like  the  music  of  a  small  gurgling  stream.  The 
mountains  were  near,  but  agriculture  had  taken  complete 
possession  of  the  plain.  It  lay  at  our  feet,  a  perfect 
kaleidoscope  of  an  endless  variety  of  beautiful  colours 
that  crept  up  the  mountain  side  till  cultivation  was  no 
longer  possible.  Where  the  meadows  ended  the  pine  took 
up  the  tale  and  clothed  the  ridge,  while  beyond  was 


VERDANDI,  NORSE  "THE  PRESENT"     139 

visible  the  dark  blue  of  the  steep  sides  of  the  snowclad 
Graasiden. 

Verdandi,  the  old  Norse  representative  of  the  present, 
must  have  been  wandering.  Resplendent  in  beauty  and 
freshness,  butterflies  always  surrounded  her,  for  she 
typified  immortality,  and  held  in  one  of  her  hands  the 
life-thread  of  every  human  being.  Her  garment  shone 
like  a  silvery  cloud,  and  from  her  long  flowing  hair 
sprang  rays  of  light  more  brilliant  than  those  of  the  sun, 
sending  their  radiance  all  over  the  world.  With  un- 
bounded joy  she  looked  into  the  future,  and  into 
immortality.  Hope  she  gave  to  all  the  children  of  men, 
and  hid  from  their  sight  the  breakers  ahead.  And  so  it 
was,  one  could  but  live  for  the  day,  earth's  beauty 
sufficing. 

It  must  always  strike  the  visitor  to  Norway  how  very 
few  really  old  churches,  monasteries,  and  houses  remain 
as  landmarks  in  the  life  of  a  people  and  country  of  such 
historic  interest.  The  oldest  buildings  now  existing  are 
no  doubt  the  churches  that  took  the  place  of  the  "  Hov  " 
or  heathen  temples  in  Scandinavia.  These  last  appear 
without  exception  to  have  been  burnt  to  make  room  for 
churches,  on  the  introduction  of  Christianity  in  the  tenth 
and  eleventh  centuries.  Mr.  Johan  Meyer,  in  his  able 
article  on  Norwegian  architecture,  says :  "  It  is  not  easy 
to  determine  which  of  the  extremely  simple  churches  of 
rough-hewn  stone  belong  to  the  early  part  of  the  eleventh 
century."  It  was  during  the  flourishing  period  which 
lasted  for  about  eighty  years,  when  the  stormy  times  in 
Norway's  history  had  suddenly  passed  away,  and  the 
stillness  that  ensued  during  the  reigns  of  Haakon 
Haakonsson,  and  his  son  Magnus  Lagaboter,  was  likened 
by  one  of  its  historians  to  "the  stillness  on  a  battle- 
field after  the  battle,"  that  a  number  of  buildings  of 


VOSS  CHURCH 

importance  rose  under  the  direct  supervision  of  this  King. 
Bergen  was  then  the  principal  town,  and  several  im- 
portant parish  churches,  without  aisles,  were  erected  in 
the  diocese,  the  church  of  Vossevangen  being  one. 

The  church  at  Voss  might  be  called  "  plain  but  honest," 
surmounted  as  it  is  with  its  quaint  black  spire.  Close 
by  it  is  not  even  very  interesting,  having  been  so  often 
renewed  that  one  is  doubtful  if  any  ancient  remains  are 
left  dating  from  1271.  There  are  some  tablets  to 
pastors  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  century,  a  nice 
candelabrum  of  1733,  and  a  Bible  of  considerable  interest, 
and  older  than  anything  else  that  meets  the  eye,  dated 
1589.  All  the  same,  this  quaint  little  church  takes  its 
place  in  the  landscape ;  and  whatever  it  may  be  close  by. 
from  the  fields  above  its  picturesqueness  is  undeniable. 

Fleischer's  Hotel  was  full  as  usual,  rooms  being  booked 
for  weeks  ahead.  In  the  great  spise-sal  every  seat  at 
the  tables  was  filled  with  walking,  cycling,  and  driving 
tourists.  No  more  genial  or  buxom  hosts  could  exist. 
Standing  behind  the  buffet  with  eagle  eyes,  they  attended 
to  the  wants  of  the  community,  directing  and  supplying 
the  maids  in  waiting,  who  looked  so  pretty  and  neat  in 
their  national  dress.  This  hotel  is  also  one  of  the  largest 
posting  stations,  being  on  the  high  road  to  Bergen,  to 
Gudvangen  on  the  Naero  Fjord, and  Eide  on  the  Hardanger. 
All  day  long  the  carioles  and  stolkjaerres  come  and  go, 
with  all  the  bustle  attending  our  coaches  in  England. 

On  the  upper  road  diverging  to  the  right  from  the 
Bergen  road,  to  the  west  of  the  hotel,  is  the  farm  of  Fin, 
and  beside  it  the  Finneloft,  a  fine  old  timber  house 
dating  from  1300.  It  looks  newer  and  far  more  sub- 
stantial than  the  weather-boarded  houses  of  the  present 
day,  which  are  much  wanting  in  the  picturesque,  and  far 
more  often  mar  than  improve  the  landscape.  Apparently 


THE  OLD  FINNELOFT  141 

the  present  generation  has  not  the  fine  feeling  for  colour 
that  their  ancestors  possessed,  and  that  was  so  necessary 
as  a  contrast  and  an  enlivening  note  to  the  wooden 
interiors. 

This  old  Finneloft  must  have  been  built  at  about  the 
same  time  as  the  wonderful  Stav  churches,  of  which  more 
than  twenty  are  still  standing,  the  greater  number  in  the 
mountain  districts  and  in  Sogn.  The  nut-brown  log 
walls  are  of  good  proportion,  the  upper  passage  is  sup- 
ported on  the  boldly  cut  ends  and  projecting  beams  of 
the  floor,  the  whole  running  round  the  building  forming 
a  protection  to  the  lower  part  of  the  walls.  The  roof 
juts  far  out  over  all.  On  the  threshold  stood  an  old 
man,  who  volunteered  in  good  English  to  fetch  the  key. 
A  splendid  cicerone  he  made,  touching  each  object  with 
a  sort  of  homage  as  belonging  to  his  forefathers.  Ex- 
patriated in  early  life  through  want  of  space  from  his 
old  home  to  the  New  World,  he  had  just  landed  with 
some  hundred  other  Norwegians  to  revisit  the  home  of 
their  youth  before  death  overtook  them. 

Mr.  Laing  quotes  some  interesting  instances  of  the 
length  of  time  that  some  of  these  bonder  estates  continue 
in  one  family.  Hrolf  Blakar,  of  Blakar,  in  Lorn  parish 
"  preserves  a  head-piece  or  helmet  complete,  with  an 
opening  only  for  the  eyes,  and  parts  of  a  coat  of  mail, 
a  long  sword,  and  other  articles  of  his  ancestors ;  also  a 
writing  of  King  Haakon  Magnusson,  the  younger,  who 
lodged  a  night  in  Blakar  Gaard,  in  the  fourteenth  year 
of  his  reign,  anno  1364.  In  many  instances  the  title- 
deeds  by  which  the  existing  bonder  hold  their  estates 
are  written  in  a  dead  language,  the  old  Norsk,  or 
Icelandic. 

Many  of  the  relations  of  Ganger  Rolf,  the  conqueror 
of  Normandy,  and  the  ancestor  of  our  Norman  line  of 


142  HROLF  BLAKAR 

Kings,  are  still  represented  by  their  descendants,  who 
are  peasant  proprietors  in  Norway  and  Iceland.  If  the 
royal  families  of  Europe,  and  our  aristocratic  families 
whose  ancestors  "  came  over  with  the  Conqueror,"  could 
trace  their  lineage  far  enough,  they  would  find  the  farms 
of  their  ancestors  among  the  gaards  of  Norway,  with 
nearly  the  same  boundaries  as  they  had  a  thousand  years 
ago.  In  many  instances  the  present  bonder  would  be 
the  direct  descendant  of  the  elder  son  of  the  common 
ancestor,  while  the  prince  or  nobleman  would  have 
descended  from  a  younger  son.  Then  as  now,  when  the 
farms  were  too  small  for  subdivision,  the  eldest  son 
inherited  intact,  while  the  younger  went  to  seek  their 
fortunes  on  the  seas  and  in  distant  lands.  The  House 
of  Finn  might  well  be  as  old  as  the  gaard  of  Hrolf 
Blakar. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  guess  these  are  mighty  old,  some  of  these. 
Look  at  this  old  carved  bit  of  wood,  some  sort  of  calendar, 
I  take  it,  with  the  signs  all  along  and  the  days  of  the 
week.  No ;  I  couldn't  read  it  myself,  but  you  may  depend 
they  could,  those  old  people.  These  Bibles, — why,  yes, 
they  are  old  too.  Look  at  the  date.  That's  more  than 
three  hundred  years  ago,  isn't  it  ?  The  harness,  yes,  and 
the  horse  collar,  that  comes  down  from  the  same  time 
too.  You  see,  they  had  silver  bells  for  weddings,  and 
these  others  were  for  everyday  use.  The  sledge  too, 
they  were  fond  of  bright  colour  in  those  days,  and  they 
made  things  strong  too.  They  wanted  them  to  last. 
Look  at  these  great  beams,  and  see  the  way  they  are 
fitted.  A  fine  piece  of  work,  I  call  it.  What  are  those 
holes  round  under  the  eaves?  Why,  they  are  to  shoot 
through,  I  reckon,  when  the  house  was  attacked." 

From  the  farm  of  Fin  our  footsteps  followed  a  path 
skirting  the  upper  end  of  the  Vangsvand,  through  a  long 


ADIEU  TO  VOSS  143 

vista  of  pine  woods,  at  the  very  edge  of  the  sandy  shores 
of  the  lake.  The  sun  was  setting,  making  the  tall  trunks 
of  the  trees  glow  a  deep  red.  The  excited  voices  of 
children  were  heard  as  they  dipped  in  and  out  of  the 
lake.  Expressions  of  pleasure  came  across  the  water 
from  a  fishing  party,  who  from  the  cold  depths  drew 
up  salmon  trout  after  salmon  trout.  The  smell  of  the 
pine  saturated  the  senses  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
we  bade  adieu  to  Voss. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  SOGNE  AND  NAERO"  FJORDS 

WE  left  Bergen  on  a  lovely  evening.  There  was 
quite  a  crush  of  people  on  the  quay  watching 
for  the  launch  that  was  to  bring  the  German  Emperor 
on  shore.  His  great  ship  was  anchored  just  outside  the 
yacht  camber,  and  looked  most  imposing.  It  was  late 
when  we  got  out  to  sea,  but  the  captain's  last  remarks 
as  we  shook  hands  before  retiring  to  our  cabin  weighed 
on  me  all  night.  "  Mind  and  be  up  early ;  we  shall 
be  entering  the  Naero  Fjord  about  four.  Don't  miss  it ; 
it  is  splendid."  The  first  land  I  saw  was  the  Sulen-Oer, 
a  group  of  islands — the  "Salundare  of  the  Frith  j  of s 
Saga."  I  knelt  many  times  on  my  bunk  during  those 
few  hours  to  look  through  my  port.  Nothing  but 
unattractive  rocks,  worn  smooth  by  the  old  ice  and 
restless  ocean,  rewarded  me  the  second  time.  My  next 
peep  was  up  a  narrow  arm  stretching  away  into  what 
seemed  infinity. 

This  "Sogne,"  from  the  old  word  narrow,  bears  out 
its  name  from  Sognefest  to  Skjolden,  winding  into  the 
country  for  some  hundred  and  twelve  miles,  ending  in  a 
number  of  long  narrow  arms,  and  is  terribly  deep, 
4000  feet  in  places.  Again  I  peep,  this  time  at  narrow 
banks  fringed  with  luxuriant  orchards,  waving  corn,  and 
pleasant  dwellings.  Once  again  I  look,  but  only  to 
dress  quickly ;  the  ship  is  steering  into  the  Naero  Fjord. 


AURLANDS  FJORD  145 

Looking  at  Baedeker,  I  see  he  marks  this  fjord  with 
two  stars.  I  approve  of  his  taste;  nothing  could  be 
more  splendid.  The  scenery  of  the  Hardanger  is  gentle 
in  comparison,  soft  and  pretty.  The  Naero  Fjord  is  the 
south-west  arm  of  the  Aurlands  Fjord,  and  the  grandest 
of  all  the  ramifications  of  the  Sogne  Fjord.  At  first 
it  is  about  nine  hundred  to  a  thousand  yards  in  breadth, 
but  narrows  to  two  hundred  yards  in  places.  When 
we  came  on  deck  it  was  hardly  light  enough  to  sketch, 
the  fjord,  being  in  a  half  twilight  owing  to  the  huge 
cliffs  on  either  side.  The  air  was  chilly  and  necessitated 
additions  of  coats  and  rugs.  Not  more  than  five  or  six 
of  the  passengers  were  on  deck  ;  the  crowd,  in  the  arms  of 
Morpheus,  missing  the  grandeur  of  this  wonderful  piece 
of  scenery.  In  places  it  seemed  quite  impossible  that 
our  ship  would  be  able  to  turn.  The  height  of  the 
great  cliff  made  the  fjord  look  narrower  than  it  really 
was.  As  the  sun  rose  it  was  a  magnificent  sight,  just 
tipping  the  heads  of  the  huge  walls  of  living  rock,  leaving 
gloom  below. 

By  six  o'clock  we  had  neared  the  head  of  the  fjord. 
Even  at  this  early  hour  it  was  possible  to  trace  men 
walking  along  the  road  with  horses  and  carts,  collect- 
ing from  far  and  near  to  meet  the  ship,  but  so  dwarfed 
by  the  height  above  them  that  it  was  only  with 
the  glasses  that  they  could  be  distinguished  as  men. 
The  Naerodals-Elv  (river)  rushed  out  to  meet  us, 
colouring  the  water  a  brilliant  pale  green.  From  either 
side  the  waterfalls  tipped  over  the  precipice  with  a  drop 
so  sheer  that  after  some  hundreds  of  yards  the  water 
dispersed  in  the  air.  At  the  head  of  the  fjord  lay  the 
farms.  The  mountains  enclosed  the  ravine  in  the  same 
way  as  they  enclosed  the  fjord,  leaving  the  hamlet 
devoid  of  sun  during  the  long  winter  months,  and 
10 


146  "LET  GO" 

during  the  summer  surrounding  it  on  all  sides  by  the 
sound  of  many  waters. 

As  we  approached  the  anchorage  it  was  found  that  a 
Hamburg- American  liner,  that  looked  most  insignificant 
amidst  her  surroundings,  had  taken  up  the  berth  Vectis 
considered  her  own.  Had  she  not  in  company  of  others 
painted  her  sign  on  the  great  rock  alongside  her  berth ! 
The  first  cast  of  the  lead  was  forty-five  fathoms,  the 
second  forty-two.  Thump !  thump !  thump !  went  the 
propeller  as  the  engines  reversed,  and  a  great  seething 
mass  of  foam  burst  out  from  under  the  counter,  and 
washed  slowly  forward  as  the  ship  lost  her  way.  Thump  ! 
thump  !  thump  !  thump !  and  the  after  end  of  the  Vectis 
is  the  centre  of  a  perfect  vortex  of  fierce  little  waves, 
which  breaking  off'  in  ever-widening  circles  dimple  the 
calm  surface  of  the  dark  green  fjord.  "She's  going 
astern,  sir,"  sings  the  leadsman.  "Let  go,"  says  a 
voice  from  the  bridge.  There  is  a  tremendous  splash, 
and  the  chain  rushes  madly  out  through  the  hawsepipe 
with  a  harsh  grating  roar,  whilst  a  thick  mist  of  iron 
rust  and  powdered  paint  rises  into  the  air,  through  which 
the  Lascars  on  the  forecastle  are  dimly  seen,  like  phantoms 
tending  the  whirring  cable  as  it  leaps  up  from  the  depths 
of  the  chain  locker.  Shackle  after  shackle  goes  plunging 
down  overboard,  and  the  brown  cloud  covers  the  whole 
fore  part  of  the  ship,  coating  everything  in  dust. 

Breakfast!  The  wonder  is  the  quantity  one  eats  at 
sea.  At  nine  the  first  horn  sounded  for  the  boats. 
On  shore  the  stolkjaerres,  karjoles,  and  four-wheeled 
carriages  drawn  by  two  horses  stood  in  rows  along  the 
little  quay.  It  is  well  to  say  here  that  the  chief 
advantage  of  the  karjole  is  its  lightness.  It  is  simply 
a  little  car  that  will  go  through  or  over  anything,  the 
body  shaped  rather  gracefully,  like  a  canoe.  There  are 


KARJOLES  AND  STOLKJAERRES          147 

two  long  thin  shafts  with  two  wheels  at  one  end,  and 
a  pony  at  the  other.  This  canoe-shaped  car  is 
placed  upon  the  shafts,  between  the  wheels  and  the 
pony.  One  person  can  just  sit  in  it.  He  has  to 
dispose  of  his  legs  as  he  may ;  either  arrange  them 
horizontally  on  the  shafts  or  dangle  them  in  the  small 
space  between  his  seat  and  the  pony's  tail,  or  other- 
wise as  his  ingenuity  may  suggest.  The  luggage  is 
placed  on  a  flat  board  nailed  to  the  shafts,  over  or  a 
little  behind  the  wheels.  The  small  boy  who  has  to 
take  the  horse  back  to  the  station  usually  stands  or 
sits  upon  this  board,  or  the  luggage ;  these  to  some  extent 
counterpoise  the  weight  of  the  traveller,  and  diminish 
the  pressure  on  the  pony's  back.  The  stolkjaerre  is 
a  larger  car  that  will  seat  two  in  front,  and  sometimes 
two  at  the  back.  I  noticed  that  it  was  quite  a  usual 
thing  for  the  driver  to  stop  for  a  moment  on  the  road 
and  pick  up  a  companion  and  give  him  or  her,  as  the  case 
might  be,  a  lift  on  the  step.  It  was  not  conducive  to 
the  legitimate  passenger's  comfort,  but  it  obtained,  I 
suppose,  from  long  habit.  The  four-wheeled  carriages 
are  quite  comfortable,  but  the  fine  look-out  ahead  is 
spoiled  by  the  broad  back  of  the  coachman  who  sits 
in  front. 

Thirty  or  more  of  these  karjoles,  stolkjaerres,  and 
carriages  streamed  along  the  road,  all  on  our  way  to 
Stalheim.  The  ponies  were  a  pleasure  to  sit  behind, 
— sturdy,  well-fed  little  brutes,  who  moved  along  just 
as  they  pleased,  the  drivers  jumping  down  and  walking 
for  every  little  hill,  saving  their  horses  as  much  as 
possible.  No  whips,  no  horrid  cries  like  the  Italians 
to  goad  them  on ;  merely  a  sharp  prut !  when  they  were 
to  stop.  These  pretty  little  fjord  horses,  with  their 
strong  short  necks,  neatly  cut  manes,  knowing  faces, 


148  FJORD  HORSES 

round  rump  and  long  flowing  tails,  sorrel,  dapple,  or 
dun,  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  they  should  be  on 
green  wooden  stands  with  four  white  wheels.  These 
little  fellows  hail  from  the  western  country.  They  are 
rarely  more  than  60  inches  high,  and  are  distinguished 
by  a  strong  frame.  They  are  hardy,  gentle,  and  active, 
and  as  a  working  horse  in  the  fjord  and  mountain 
districts  cannot  be  replaced  by  any  other  breed. 
The  Gudbrandsdal  horse,  of  the  eastern  country, 
named  after  the  district  where  its  systematic  breeding 
and  raising  has  been  earned  on  for  a  long  time,  is  a 
rather  larger  horse,  some  63  inches  high,  generally 
black  or  brown  in  colour.  It  is  of  the  same  build 
as  the  fjord  horse,  has  splendid  legs,  and  is  quick  and 
strong  as  a  working  and  carriage  horse.  This  is  the 
breed  that  is  used  by  the  farmers  all  over  the  eastern 
part  of  the  country,  and  in  the  districts  round  the 
Trondhjem  Fjord.  For  the  best  stallions  up  to  6000 
kroner  are  paid,  but  the  average  for  a  good  working 
horse  is  700  to  800  kroner. 

We  started  in  a  long  line  through  the  valley,  passed 
the  little  hotel  and  a  group  of  farms  and  weather- 
boarded  houses ;  their  roofing  of  flowering  sods  redeemed 
them  from  ugliness.  The  river  ran  alongside  through 
a  narrow  band  of  cultivated  land,  which  did  not  seem 
enough  to  keep  the  people.  When  we  saw  the  same  spot 
in  the  autumn,  ragged,  poor  crops  of  barley  were  stacked 
like  men  running  across  the  fields  in  sacks.  A  stake 
was  driven  into  the  ground  about  the  height  of  a  man. 
The  barley,  tied  into  small  sheaves,  was  threaded  on  the 
stake,  head  downwards  one  above  the  other.  This  seemed 
to  us  a  most  sensible  means  of  drying  the  late  crop,  the 
wind  and  sun  being  able  to  circulate  round  each  stack. 

A    little    farther    on   we   come   to   another   ingenious 


ON  THE  ROAD  TO  STALHEIM  149 

contrivance  which  our  driver  called  a  lopus  string. 
This  consisted  of  a  thick  wire  that  led  from  a  wooden 
windlass  on  the  ground  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  hundreds 
of  feet  above,  where  was  perched  a  saeter.  The  owner 
sent  down  his  hay  by  hooking  it  in  bundles  to  the  wire, 
which  takes  it  with  expedition  to  the  valley  below. 
Round  most  saeters  there  is  a  piece  of  ground,  fenced  in 
and  manured,  on  which  grows  a  fine  nourishing  grass. 
This  is  mowed  with  tiny  scythes,  the  hay  hung  on  hurdles 
to  dry,  and  sent  down  in  the  way  I  have  described. 
This  hay  is  carefully  stored  and  kept  to  feed  the  cattle 
during  the  winter  months,  when  they  return  to  the  farm 
in  the  valley. 

The  road  was  a  fine  one,  neatly  and  well  kept,  though 
hardly  wide  enough  for  two  carts  to  pass.  The  carriages 
we  met  had  to  pull  up  whilst  our  long  line  scraped  by. 
Imagine,  mountain  after  mountain,  one  behind  the  other, 
a  brawling  torrent  running  over  grey  boulders  (a  salmon 
river  by  the  bye)  dividing  these  towering  walls  of  rocks. 
The  road  ran  alongside  the  river,  a  pale  yellow  thread, 
gradually  winding  higher  and  higher  with  rocks  neatly 
placed  at  regular  intervals.  In  between  these  rocks  was 
a  beautiful  growth  of  wild  feathery  field  flowers,  making 
a  delightful  edgeway  to  the  road.  Only  ordinary 
English  flowers,  harebells,  cow  parsley,  scabious,  etc., 
but  none  the  less  beautiful  for  that.  The  road  grew 
steeper  and  steeper.  Our  horse  came  to  a  full  stop, 
and  we  brought  up  alongside  the  other  cars  that  stood 
at  ease  on  a  level  scooped  out  of  the  mountain  side, 
a  sort  of  rest  place  close  to  the  bridge.  All  jumped 
down  to  finish  the  remaining  steep  on  foot.  By  the 
side  of  the  way  were  some  old  people,  men  and  women, 
carefully  cutting  the  grass  with  a  little  sickle.  This 
they  gathered  together,  every  blade,  with  a  small  brush 


ISO  STALHEIMSKLEN 

and  pan.  Nothing  is  wasted  in  Norway,  not  even  an 
ounce  of  soil.  Ploughing  loosens  the  earth  on  the  hill- 
sides, and  the  rain  gradually  carries  it  down  to  the  fields 
below,  which  slowly  rise ;  but  the  careful  husbandman 
with  great  trouble  carries  it  uphill  again  load  by 
load. 

This  steep  ends  the  valley.  It  is  called  the  Stalheims- 
klev  or  cliff.  Up  this  the  road  zigzags,  and  it  takes  nearly 
an  hour  to  reach  the  top.  Little  ones  by  the  roadside 
stood  with  bunches  of  wild  flowers,  offering  them  shyly 
to  us.  I  hope  the  tourist  will  not  spoil  them  and  turn 
them  into  beggars.  It  is  a  little  graceful  act  which 
should  always  be  accepted,  the  little  one's  face  when 
vou  take  her  proffered  bunch  showing  that  money  is 
not  what  she  is  asking  for.  A  carriage  and  horses  can 
drive  up  this  zigzag ;  but  it  is  very  hard  work,  the  horse 
having  to  tack  all  the  way. 

Lunch  was  waiting  in  the  great  wooden  hotel,  that  has 
been  burnt  down  many  times,  when  we  arrived  at 
Stalheim.  All  was  bustle  as  the  tourists,  who  had  come 
overland  from  Bergen  via  Vossevangen,  were  expected. 
It  was  rather  a  question  if  there  would  be  sufficient  room 
for  the  whole  company.  The  maids  serving  were  the 
same  type  as  our  blonde  English  women,  big  of  frame, 
fair  skin,  pretty  yellow  hair,  and  nice  open  faces.  We 
seemed  such  a  crowd  to  be  together  at  this  lonely  spot, 
amongst  the  magnificent  views  of  valley  and  fjord. 
Steep  bare  mountains  rising  on  every  side,  so  immensely 
grand  in  comparison  with  the  noisy  humans  whose  talk 
in  the  great  saloon  hushed  and  overmastered  the  roar 
of  the  waterfall  hard  by.  Finishing  first,  we  retraced 
our  steps  well  ahead  of  our  friends,  and  selected  a 
quiet  corner  over  the  edge  of  the  steep  road  to 
sketch. 


NAERODAL 


GREAT  JORDALSNUT  151 

The  rain-clouds  were  gathering,  and  slowly  creeping 
up  the  valley.  A  grey  misty  veil  hung  over  the  fjord, 
which  lay  hidden  by  the  overlapping  mountains.  To 
the  left  towered  huge  Jordalsnut,  a  mighty  mass  of 
bare  light  grey  syenite,  made  even  bigger  than  he 
really  was  by  the  overlapping  mist.  Nearer  were  the 
mountains,  patched  with  squares  and  odd  markings  of 
birch,  beech,  and  fir,  from  amongst  which  issued  long 
scars  and  rubble,  the  track  of  the  ever-falling  avalanches. 
To  the  right  and  left  of  us  are  the  Sevlefos  and  the 
Stalheimsfos,  and  below  looking  sheer  down  over  the 
tops  of  the  trees  one  can  trace  the  river  and  the  winding 
ribbon-like  road.  Norway's  roads  are  excellent.  Com- 
paratively speaking,  no  country  has  so  many  and  such 
good  ones,  but  as  soon  as  one  turns  off  from  the  main 
roads  to  get  to  the  farmsteads  on  the  hill  they  can 
only  be  termed  paths,  and  very  often  rough  ones  at 
that. 

It  was  raining  fast  when  we  regained  our  carts.  The 
little  horses  realised  they  would  be  more  comfortable  in 
their  stables,  and  went  home  at  a  great  rate,  flying  down- 
hill with  a  loose  rein.  There  is  no  brake  to  the  cart, 
and  at  first  the  pace  feels  rather  dangerous,  but  one  soon 
gets  used  to  it.  Wherever  you  drive  it  is  always  the 
same,  and  one  arrives  in  safety  at  the  bottom. 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  we  arranged  with  our 
steward  to  pack  us  some  lunch,  and  landed  early.  A 
fjord  boat  rowed  us  a  little  way  down  the  road  that 
leads  to  Bakke,  which  is  a  delightful  walk  along  the 
margin  of  the  fjord.  The  road  ends  at  the  village, 
where  the  mountains  rise  straight  out  of  the  water, 
leaving  no  space  even  for  a  path.  From  all  round  boats 
were  slowly  converging  on  Bakke,  on  their  way  to  the 
neat  little  church  with  a  bold  spire  that  rises  on  the 


152  THE  ROAD  TO  BAKKE 

fjord  side.  The  Bakke-Elv  fussed  and  rushed  through 
the  compact  little  village ;  all  was  quiet  at  the  sawmill, 
which  this  noisy  torrent  works.  It  was  a  beautiful  walk, 
and  one  to  be  recommended  to  the  man  who  seeks  rest 
for  a  holiday.  The  many  waterfalls  that  descend  from 
high  above  finish  close  at  hand,  diving  through  the  trees 
and  over  the  rocks,  under  the  road  and  so  into  the  fjord. 
All  round  could  be  heard  the  gentle  bleating  of  sheep 
and  goats,  and  their  tinkling  bells.  The  road  hugs  the 
shore,  and  passes  from  one  shady  wood  of  birch  to  another. 
We  went  on  till  from  a  point  of  view  Bakke  and  its  sur- 
roundings were  as  nearly  perfect  as  they  well  could  be, 
so  we  climbed  up  a  little  way  out  of  sight  of  the  road 
and  watched  the  peasants  passing  along.  Seeing  it  as 
we  did  then,  with  the  hot  sun  overhead  warming  and 
glorifying  rocks  and  fjord,  it  gave  no  impression  of  what 
it  must  be  in  the  winter.  Even  in  summer  when  the 
sun  sinks  it  leaves  the  fjord  gloomy  and  cold,  but  in  the 
dark  days  this  Naero  Fjord  must  be  one  of  the  most,  if 
not  the  most  gloomy  spot  in  all  Norway.  Narrow 
waters  flanked  by  stately  mountains  can  be  seen  in  many 
places,  but  nowhere  do  the  heights  group  themselves  so 
impressively. 

Travelling  through  the  country,  it  is  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  few  cattle  one  meets,  wandering  about  the  hills 
and  valleys,  should  really  amount  to  so  many,  and  form 
such  an  important  factor  in  Norwegian  husbanding. 
Nowhere  does  one  come  across  the  broad,  rounded,  and 
muscular  frames  of  the  lowland  cattle,  with  their  huge  bulk 
of  flesh.  The  cows  are  small,  with  red  or  brindled  sides, 
averaging  660  Ibs  in  weight.  They  are  evidently  good 
milk-givers,  if  one  can  be  a  judge  of  the  hissing  quantity 
that  filled  the  pails  of  the  milkers,  that  we  disturbed  on 
our  way  to  the  glacier  at  Mundal.  These  cows  seemed 


NORWEGIAN  CATTLE  153 

very  small,  but  the  coast  cattle  are  smaller  still,  the  true 
weight  being  from  450  to  550  Ibs.  There  is  nothing 
typical  about  them  as  to  shape  or  colour,  but  they  are 
peculiar  in  their  ability  of  being  able  to  live  on  next  to 
nothing. 

The  Norwegian  sheep  are  also  small  and  slender,  the 
adult  animal  hardly  weighing  90  Ibs.  In  company  with 
the  goats  they  wander  about  at  their  own  sweet  will. 
Sitting  in  this  quiet  spot  at  Gudvangen,  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  tinkle  of  their  bells  and  their  soft  baaing. 
Being  Sunday,  the  goats  wanted  milking,  and  were  troubled 
that  the  hour  had  passed.  Jumping  lightly  from  rock 
to  rock,  they  collected  round  us,  each  with  its  distinctive 
marks  of  one,  two,  or  three  ties  of  scarlet  wool  through 
the  ear.  They  wanted  to  taste  the  paints,  nibble  the 
edge  of  the  sketch  books,  overturn  the  water-bottle, — 
anything,  in  fact,  to  while  away  the  time.  They  browsed 
round,  eating  our  discarded  apple  peels  and  sandwiches, 
and  ultimately  sat  down,  with  a  far-off  look  in  their  eyes, 
watching  the  winding  road  below,  with  every  now  and 
then  a  pensive  bleat.  They  caught  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps first,  and  sprang  to  attention,  as  a  bevy  of  girls 
with  pails  came  into  view.  These  had  white  shawls  over 
their  heads,  their  best  black  frocks  hitched  up  showed 
their  scarlet  under-petticoats,  and  all  came  along  laughing 
and  chatting,  with  the  youths  following  closely  on  their 
heels.  The  goats  hurried  down,  and  waited  in  line  across 
the  road  for  their  mistresses.  The  sheep  followed  in  a 
more  leisurely  fashion,  the  whole  soon  disappearing  down 
the  road  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  During  the  last  few  decades 
the  sheep  have  been  much  crossed  with  foreign  breeds, 
especially  Cheviot,  which  gains  in  popularity  every  year 
in  the  real  sheep  districts. 

Clouds  had  risen   again  just  as   they   had   done  the 


154  A  PERFECT  RAINBOW 

evening  before,  and  the  rain  came  sweeping  down  before 
it  was  possible  to  get  back  to  the  ship.  The  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  sit  under  a  protecting  ledge  of  rock  and 
wait  till  it  was  over,  though  we  rather  doubted  if  we 
should  catch  the  last  launch.  It  was  worth  it,  though 
the  ground  around  had  got  very  moist  before  we  could 
make  a  move.  I  never  saw  anything  more  magnificent. 
Great  rain-clouds  came  tipping  over  the  huge  mountain 
that  rose  sheer  from  the  fjord  for  5000  feet.  The 
sun  broke  out  every  now  and  then,  changing  the 
drops  into  the  most  glorious  rainbows,  with  all  the 
colours  ever  seen.  One  hears  tell  of  ships  dressed  rain- 
bow fashion,  but  man's  efforts  pale  in  comparison  with  the 
forces  of  nature,  that  from  where  we  sat  decked  the 
Vectis  from  her  bow  to  the  land,  and  again  reflected 
above  all  the  intense  colours  in  another  perfect  bow. 

The  ship  was  under  way,  and  slowly  steaming  down 
the  fjord,  when  she  again  practically  stopped.  At  the 
same  time  she  drew  in  to  one  side.  Few  people  were  on 
deck,  as  the  dressing  bugle  had  sounded.  I  was  just 
wondering  what  could  have  happened,  when  the  well- 
known  Royal  Arms  of  England  and  thick  gold  cables 
passed  across  our  port.  There  was  no  mistaking  our 
own  Royal  Yacht.  I  am  afraid  the  reception  was  mostly 
from  the  port-holes.  Her  Royal  Highness,  who  was  re- 
turning from  the  crowning  at  Trondhjem,  was  on  the 
bridge,  with  the  little  princes,  and  waved  in  acknowledg- 
ment to  our  greetings.  I  for  one  was  glad  she  saw 
Gudvangen  on  such  a  lovely  day. 

Slowly  we  continued  our  course,  taking  a  lingering 
look  at  the  Naero  Fjord  and  its  wild  surroundings. 
Down  Aurlands  Fjord,  which  is  nothing  but  an  enormous 
ravine,  the  monotonous  murmur  of  the  waterfalls  alone 
broke  the  silence.  We  crossed  the  Sogne,  leaving  Balholm 


FJAERLANDS  FJORD  AND  MUNDAL      155 

to  our  left,  into  the  wide  basin  leading  to  Fjaerlands  Fjord, 
at  the  head  of  which  lies  Mundal,  with  its  snowy  back- 
ground. We  brought  up  just  as  the  sun  was  setting, 
lighting  up  the  wisps  of  cloud  that  crossed  the  steep 
peaks,  filling  the  hollows  of  the  great  Skeidsnipa  mountain 
that  divides  the  two  valleys,  at  the  head  of  which  the 
soft  though  sharp  outline  of  the  virgin  snow  of  the 
Bojunisbrae  on  the  left-hand  side,  and  the  Store  Sup- 
hellebrae  on  the  right,  tell  against  the  sky.  These  are 
two  of  the  easiest  glaciers  to  get  at,  and  are  both 
beautiful  in  their  way.  They  are  the  first  that  creep 
down  south  from  the  Jostedalsbrae,  which  like  the 
Folgefond  is  a  great  plain  of  snow,  the  largest  in  all 
Europe — a  great  untrodden  desert  of  perpetual  snow 
and  ice,  covering  a  space  of  about  350  square 
miles.  Every  valley  of  favourable  configuration  that 
branches  from  this  great  reservoir  of  ice  is  filled  with 
a  glacier,  or  ice  torrent,  replacing  the  water  torrent 
of  the  valleys  that  descend  from  the  Dovre  and  other 
fjelds  that  are  not  snow-covered. 

At  Mundal  next  morning  all  the  stolkjaerres  had 
collected  for  the  drive  to  the  glaciers,  which  can  both  be 
done,  if  one  likes,  in  six  hours.  In  my  own  mind  I  am 
sure  that  these  lonely  spots  are  best  visited  in  company. 
It  would  be  so  very  easy  to  slip  on  a  boulder  and  lie  with 
a  broken  leg  or  twisted  ankle  for  hours  and  days  without 
help,  only  visited  by  a  curious  wandering  cow  or  goat. 
The  road  at  first  skirts  the  bank  of  the  fjord,  and  as  we 
drove  farther  on  opened  the  head  of  the  Bojumsdal,  "or 
valley,"  with  the  snows  of  the  Jostedalsbrae  as  a  back- 
ground. 

The  road  divides  on  passing  a  group  of  farms,  the 
one  leading  to  the  Bojumsbrae  keeping  straight  on, 
the  one  to  the  Suphelle  turning  to  the  right  from  the 


156  BOJUMSBRAE 

fork  of  the  road,  and  crossing  the  brawling  Bojum  River. 
Bojum  is  considered  the  grander  of  the  two  glaciers. 
It  is  whiter  and  cleaner,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  more  exciting 
to  watch  for  the  avalanches  that  are  continually  falling 
from  the  Suphelle.  Neither  of  the  glaciers  can  be  closely 
approached  by  the  carriages,  both  having  withdrawn 
within  their  old  limits,  leaving  a  prodigious  barren  waste 
of  stones  which,  being  devoid  of  soil,  nourishes  not  one 
blade  of  grass.  The  road  ascends  the  right  bank  of  the 
river,  past  two  little  houses,  till  it  reaches  Bojum  Saeter, 
where  it  is  possible  to  get  food.  Hence  there  is  half 
an  hour's  walk  to  the  foot  of  the  glacier,  over  loose 
stones  and  a  maze  of  streamlets.  Close  to,  one  loses 
the  suspended  look  of  the  great  snow  torrent,  the  foot 
rises  wall-like,  with  crevices  and  caves  of  the  deepest 
prussian  blue,  paling  towards  the  edges.  What  makes 
the  difference  of  the  blue  and  the  green  lights  in  the 
ice  is  difficult  to  say.  The  thick  look  of  the  water 
which  issues  from  it  is  accounted  for  by  myriads  of  air 
bubbles,  but  what  makes  its  peculiar  colour  I  should 
much  like  to  know. 

I  left  my  companion  sketching,  and  drove  off  with  a 
friend  to  see  the  Suphelle.  The  driver  said  it  could  be 
done  before  seven  o'clock.  His  horse  was  fresh,  and 
with  no  carts  leading  the  way  could  go  much  faster. 
He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  little  horse  trotted 
well,  and  soon  brought  us  to  the  cross-roads,  where  we 
again  discussed  if  it  was  worth  going  on  and  risking  a 
wet  jacket,  as  all  round  the  clouds  were  beginning  to 
gather.  The  skydsgut  again  assured  us  he  could  do 
it  easily.  Questioning  some  of  the  passengers  who  were 
on  their  way  back,  and  being  assured  that  it  was  well 
worth  seeing,  we  again  started  off  at  a  round  trot, 


SUPHELLEBRAE  157 

We  drew  up  as  we  approached  the  Suphelle  Gaard ; 
our  way  was  barred  by  little  cows,  who  were  standing 
all  round,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  the  milkmaids 
filling  their  pails  with  the  frothing  warm  milk. 

The  milk  seemed  a  great  quantity  to  deal  with,  though 
no  doubt  this  was  one  branch  of  the  co-operative  dairies 
that  abound  in  half  the  parishes  of  the  country.  They 
number  some  six  hundred  and  fifty.  Most  of  them  have 
separators  and  up-to-date  equipments.  Part  of  the 
yield,  which  is  a  big  one,  about  two  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  gallons  a  day,  is  sold  in  England  at  high 
prices.  Norwegians  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  making  a 
cheese  that  suits  the  foreign  taste.  The  girls  sitting 
busily  at  work  amid  the  birch  trees  at  the  side  of 
the  road,  the  little  red-and- white  or  black-and-white 
kine  waiting  their  turn,  or  being  sent  off  with  a  pat 
on  the  back  to  nibble  the  herbage  round  about,  made 
a  pretty  picture.  It  seemed  to  me  the  bell-cow  had  to 
bide  till  the  last,  as  she  was  tethered  and  waiting  patiently 
for  the  end. 

The  last  stolkjaerre  was  on  its  way  home  before  we 
had  arrived  at  the  spot  where  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
tinue the  road  on  foot.  The  river  came  rushing  towards 
us  with  a  great  noise,  unlike  the  Boj urn's  streamlets.  It 
poured  forth,  a  full  volume  of  the  palest  green  water, 
straight  out  of  the  bowls  of  the  glacier,  streaming  from 
underneath  an  overhanging  arch  of  ice.  At  the  top 
the  Jostedal  piled  its  snow  as  though  castellated  against 
the  dull  grey  sky.  All  the  time  the  ice  was  speaking, 
groaning,  and  pattering  down  a  steep  wall  of  rock  on 
which  the  snow  could  not  lodge.  Below  again  the  ice- 
field spread,  not  clean  and  white  like  Boj  urn's,  but  dirty 
and  brown  like  cinders  laid  on  a  slippery  road.  The  edge, 
soiled  and  rough,  terminated  amidst  a  wilderness  of  stones. 


158       ALONE  AT  THE  FOOT  OF  BOJUM 

I  jumped  at  a  report,  sharp  and  clear  as  of  a  gun ;  on 
looking  up  to  the  spot  from  which  the  noise  came  I  saw 
a  great  lump  of  ice  in  the  act  of  falling  and  rumbling 
down  the  steep  rock.  Suphelle  was  fascinating  in  its 
gloom  and  roughness,  which  was  intensified  by  the 
now  fast-falling  rain. 

It  was  with  compunction  that  I  again  crossed  the 
Bojums-Elv  on  to  the  main  road.  The  valley  where  I 
left  my  companion  was  full  of  mist  and  rain,  and  the 
daylight  waning.  I  had  visions  of  the  many  unpleasant 
accidents  that  might  befall  a  deserted  traveller  left  at 
the  foot  of  the  Bojumsbrae  ;  and  was  greatly  relieved 
when,  just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  in  he  came, 
the  rain  hanging  thick  on  his  hair  and  beard. 

"  Has  anyone  been  lost  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  slipped  into 
his  seat  at  the  table.  "  As  I  was  walking  along  by 
the  river  a  farmer  met  me,  and  insisted  that  I  was  the 
brother  of  the  sister  that  was  looking  for  me.  'But 
you  have  a  sister  ? '  '  No,1  I  said,  '  I  have  not.'  '  But  I 
have  come  to  look  for  the  lost  man.  You  are  the  lost 
man  ? '  '  No.'  '  Then  who  is  he  ? ' r  But  there,  of  course, 
my  husband  could  not  help  him,  as  he  knew  of  no  lost 
man. 

Then  he  resumed :  "  As  one  by  one  the  people  picked 
their  way  down  the  tumbled  mass  of  boulders  and  grey 
sand,  and  passed  out  of  view,  the  silence  seemed  to  grow. 
I  found  one  great  round  stone,  which  overhung  on  the 
lee  side,  that  made  a  sort  of  shelter  from  the  shower. 
Trouble  was  evidently  brewing  in  the  clouds  that  gathered 
so  black  and  threatening  among  the  jagged  peaks  which 
towered  above  me.  I  pulled  out  my  sketching  gear, 
and  began  to  work.  How  wonderfully  still  everything 
seemed.  The  green  milky  glacier  water  oozed  out  from 
among  the  weird  ice  grottoes,  and  was  lost  among  the 


THE  HAUNT  OF  THE  JOTNAR  159 

smooth  egg-shaped  pebbles  of  pink  and  pale  grey  granite. 
Now  and  then  an  ice  pinnacle  would  subside,  or  a  little 
arch  crumble  into  the  quiet  water.  There  was  hardly 
a  sound,  and  yet  the  neat  and  furrowed  surface  of  the 
great  snow-torrent  which  forced  its  way  through  the 
narrow  gorge  suggested  only  wild  turmoil  and  rapid 
motion.  It  seemed  impossible  that  these  convolutions 
and  seams  which  followed  each  other  with  such  rhythmic 
regularity  were  really  moving  more  slowly  than  the 
hands  of  a  watch.  One  can  fancy  with  what  tremendous 
pressure  the  upper  ice  forces  itself  down  to  fill  the  space 
of  the  melting  lower  edge.  Pushing  and  crushing,  the 
glacier  keeps  up  its  silent  struggle  through  the  long  ages. 
It  is  only  now  and  then  that  one  catches  a  sort  of  faint 
sound  which  tells  of  what  is  passing  in  the  heart  of  the 
thick-ribbed  ice.  Is  it  a  wonder  that  the  old  Norsemen, 
living  their  lives  in  solitudes  such  as  these,  should  people 
the  waste-places  with  dreadful  jotnar  and  frost  spirits  ? 

"Soon  the  clouds  began  to  blot  out  the  narrow  cleft 
through  which  the  glacier  forces  itself  down  into  the 
valley,  and  now  the  great  cataract  of  ice  seemed  as 
though  falling  from  heaven  itself.  A  moment  later  a 
bitter  blast  came  whistling  among  the  ice  pinnacles.  Hail 
and  rain  pattering  fiercely  blotted  out  everything.  How 
it  poured !  Through  the  turmoil  I  could  hear  the  tiny 
threads  of  waterfalls  clashing  down  from  the  rocks 
above ;  hundreds  of  them  leaping  from  ledge  to 
ledge. 

"  By  degrees  the  storm  subsided,  and  the  thick  curtains 
of  rain  and  mist  were  drawn  aside,  showing  once  more  the 
ragged  glacier  full  of  iridescent  colours,  cutting  sharp 
and  clear  up  against  the  pale  blue  sky.  Not  a  single 
wrinkle  seemed  to  be  changed  out  of  all  that  contorted 
mass  of  snow  and  ice." 


160  BALHOLM 

What  can  I  say  of  Balholm  ?  except  that  it  looked 
like  a  jewel,  an  emerald  of  the  brightest  and  purest 
water,  set  down  by  the  fjord  side.  At  this  spot  the 
country  seems  more  luxuriant  than  any  other  we  visited. 
Two  large  hotels  and  pretty,  brightly  painted  houses 
adorn  the  shore,  and  have  as  a  background  deep  green 
woods,  encircled  by  deeper  blue  mountains,  on  the  tops 
of  which  lay  a  fresh  fall  of  snow.  A  wide  stretch  of 
fjord  glitters  in  front ;  and  the  little  Esse  Fjord  runs  away 
to  the  left,  making  the  prettiest  summer  picture  we  had 
come  across. 

The  boats  flocked  out  towards  the  ship.  Regular 
fairy  boats  were  these,  with  high  stems  and  sterns, 
painted  in  delicate  colours  of  blue,  green,  mauve,  and 
pink,  with  scarlet  cushions  in  each.  They  say  here 
that  a  great  deal  of  Balholm's  popularity  was  brought 
about  by  Edna  Lyall's  book,  A  Hardy  Norseman.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  there  is  no  doubt  that  Balholm  for  some 
months  of  the  year  is  a  delightful  spot  in  which  to  live. 
The  children  greeted  us  with  little  baskets  full  of  flowers 
for  sale,  pretty  little  yellow  noisette  roses  of  a  lovely  shade, 
but  with  a  disagreeable  smell  one  does  not  associate  with 
the  queen  of  flowers. 

At  one  side  of  the  road  after  passing  the  hotels  are 
some  humble  cottages  built  of  wood  and  stone,  with  a 
very  slight  pitch  to  the  roof,  on  which  the  long  grasses 
wave.  The  rudimentary  chimney  formed  a  distinctly 
picturesque  adjunct  to  the  cottage ;  built  as  it  was  of 
small  boulder  stones,  square  for  a  little  way,  with  pillars 
of  smaller  stone  still  at  each  corner.  On  these  rested  a 
large  slate,  kept  in  place  by  turf  and  stones.  It  would 
make  a  pretty  little  sketch,  with  the  blue  fjord  seen 
through  the  waving  grasses.  The  fields  on  either  side  of  the 
road  were  full  of  spring  flowers.  The  children  were  rosy  and 


KING  BELE'S  BAUTASTEINAR  161 

healthy,  no  one  seemingly  poor  or  sorry.  It  was  an  ideal 
morning,  and  made  one  feel  in  tune  with  the  day.  We 
prowled  on  and  on  down  the  pleasant  road,  like  the 
three  jovial  huntsmen,  with  nothing  much  to  show  after 
the  day  was  done.  A  new  house  was  building,  and  we 
stopped  to  look,  making  up  there  and  then  a  bright 
picture  for  some  future  holiday,  in  which  one  of  the  party 
was  to  build  something  similar,  and  invite  the  company 
present  as  paying  guests.  Still  wandering,  we  came  to 
the  Laxevarp,  which  is  a  peculiar  erection.  A  long  flight 
of  rough  steps  from  the  shore  is  supported  at  the  end 
by  two  long  camera-looking  legs  that  stand  in  the 
fjord.  On  a  small  stage  on  the  top  is  the  fisherman, 
with  half  a  dozen  lines  in  the  water  baited  for  salmon. 
Besides  these  were  two  or  three  seine  nets,  into  which 
from  his  elevated  perch  the  fisherman  could  see  all  that 
was  going  on  in  the  clear  water  below. 

On  our  way  back  we  looked  into  the  little  English 
church  of  St.  Olaf.  It  is  quite  ordinary,  built  entirely 
of  wood,  bright  varnished,  and  tinted  the  shades  of  the 
rainbow  by  the  coloured  glass  in  the  windows ;  but  it  is 
quite  good  in  its  restful  silence  for  prayer. 

Next  we  ascended  a  mound  surmounted  by  a  great  birch 
tree,  and  a  modern  bautasten  pointing  it  out  as  the  tomb 
of  King  Bele,  a  character  in  the  wonderful  Frithjof  Saga. 
The  thousands  of  mounds,  cairns,  bautasteinar  (memorial 
stones),  and  graves  found  to  this  day  all  over  the  north 
show  the  high  veneration  the  earlier  English-speaking 
tribes  had  for  their  dead.  These  mounds,  or  cairns  like 
this  one  at  Balholm,  are  always  situated  on  some 
conspicuous  place,  from  which  a  magnificent  view  can 
often  be  had.  Most  of  these  bautasteinar  bear  runes 
(writings).  Du  Chaillu  tells  us  that  England,  being  the 
earliest  and  most  important  of  the  northern  colonies, 
ii 


162  RUNATAL 

possesses  many  monuments  and  objects  with  runes ; 
among  them  a  large  knife,  found  in  the  bed  of  the 
Thames,  now  in  the  British  Museum.  From  the  Sagas  we 
learn  that  runes  were  traced  on  staves,  rods,  weapons, 
the  sterns  and  rudders  of  ships,  drinking  horns,  fish 
bones,  etc. 

In  Runatal  (Odin's  rune  song),  or  the  last  part  of 
Havamal,  there  is  a  most  interesting  account  of  the  use 
that  could  be  made  of  runes.  It  shows  plainly  that  in 
earlier  times  they  were  not  used  by  the  people  in  general 
for  writing,  but  that  they  were  mystic,  being  employed 
for  conjurations  and  the  like,  and  therefore  regarded 
with  a  certain  awe  and  superstition.  In  this  song  Odin, 
who  has  had  to  go  through  a  terrible  ordeal  to  learn  the 
runes,  is  supposed  to  be  teaching  some  one  and  giving 
advice.  Nine  was  the  sacred  or  mystical  number,  and  in 
stanza  six  Odin  shows  which  tribes  or  people  knew  the 
art  of  writing  runes.  It  is  unfortunately  too  long  to  give 
the  whole  in  this  work. 

THE  RUNE  SONG  OF  ODIN 

"I  know  that  I  hung 
On  the  windy  tree 
Nine  whole  nights, 
Wounded  with  a  spear. 
Given  to  Odin, 
Myself  to  myself; 
On  the  tree 

Of  whom  no  one  knows 
From  what  roots  it  comes. 

They  gave  me  no  food, 
Nor  a  horn  (drink) ; 
I  peered  downward, 
I  caught  the  runes, 
Learned  them  weeping ; 
Thence  I  fell  down. 


ODIN'S  SONG  163 

Nine  songs  of  might 

I  learnt  from  the  famous 

Son  of  Botthorn,  father  of  Bestta ; 

And  I  got  a  draught 

Of  the  precious  mead 

Taken  out  of  Adrerir. 

Then  I  became  fruitful 

And  wise ; 

I  grew  and  I  throve  ; 

Word  followed  word 

With  me  ; 

Act  followed  act 

With  me. 

Thou  wilt  find  runes 

And  letters  to  read, 

Very  large  staves, 

Very  strong  staves, 

Which  the  mighty  wise  one  drew 

And  the  high  powers  made 

And  the  Hropt  (Odin)  of  the  gods  carved, 

Odin  (carved  runes)  among  the  Asar ; 

Dain  with  the  Alfar ; 

Dvulin  with  the  Dverger ; 

Alsvid  (the  all-wise) 

With  the  Jotnar ; 

Some  I  carved  myself  .  .  . 

I  know  incantations 

Which  no  king's  wife  knows, 

And  no  man's  son. 

Help  is  the  first  one  called, 

And  it  will  help  thee 

Against  strife  and  sorrows, 

Against  all  kinds  of  grief  .  .  . 

The  ninth  I  know 
If  I  am  in  need 


164  WHAT  ODIN  LEARNED  FROM  THE  RUNES 

To  save  my  ship  afloat 

I  hush  the  wind 

On  the  waves, 

And  calm  all  the  sea. 

The  tenth  I  know 
If  I  see  hedge-riders 
Playing  in  the  air, 
I  cause  that 
They  go  astray 
Out  of  their  skins, 
Out  of  their  minds  .  .  . 

The  sixteenth  I  know, 

If  of  the  comely  maiden, 

I  want  all  the  heart  and  the  love ; 

I  change  the  mind 

Of  the  white-armed  woman 

And  turn  all  her  heart  .  .  . 

I  know  the  eighteenth, 

Which  I  will  never  tell 

To  maiden  or  man's  wife, 

Except  to  her  alone 

That  holds  me  in  her  arms, 

Or  is  my  sister ; 

All  is  better 

That  one  alone  only  knows, 

That  is  the  end  of  the  song  .  .  ." 

In  stanza  ten  by  hedge-riders  Odin  means  witches  and 
ghosts,  who  were  believed  to  ride  on  hedges  and  tops  of 
houses  at  night.  Norway  and  its  weird  crowd  of  jutals, 
trolds,  werwolfs,  and  other  uncanny  spectres  must  have 
been  an  uncomfortable  place  for  nervous  people  in  those 
days. 

From  King  Bele's  mound  the  road  goes  on,  shaded 
in  places  by  tall  trees,  past  villas  with  pretty  gardens, 
especially  Fru  Dahl's,  over  the  hedges  of  which  I  was 


AN  ARTISTIC  HOME  165 

rude  enough  to  gaze,  fascinated  by  the  smell  of  roses 
that  grew  luxuriantly.  Fru  herself  was  in  the  garden, 
a  handsome  tall  woman  in  a  lovely  coloured  red  gown 
that  seemed  to  suit  her  surroundings  exactly.  She  was 
tending  and  clipping  her  roses.  To  her  courtesy 
I  was  indebted,  and  dared  to  enter  the  house, 
though  a  stranger,  which  gave  me  the  opportunity 
I  so  much  wanted  of  seeing  an  artistic  Norwegian 
interior. 

Mr.  C.  Dahl,  the  painter,  received  me  most  genially, 
and  showed  me  his  pictures  and  some  splendid  studies 
of  fair  Norse  maidens.  The  flower-scented  air  wafted 
the  long  white  curtains  to  and  fro ;  these  had  a  wide 
band  of  Norwegian  embroidery  at  the  edge.  The  sun- 
light, flickering  on  the  varnished  walls,  lit  up  a  great 
vase  of  big  scarlet  poppies  placed  on  the  narrow  long 
table,  which  had  for  cover  a  material  that  I  have  only 
met  in  Norway.  It  is  too  thick  for  muslin  and  not 
thick  enough  for  canvas,  and  is  embroidered  in  scarlet 
and  blue.  The  furniture  was  carved  and  brightly 
painted.  Quaint  old  cupboards  and  curious  little 
cabinets,  in  some  cases  made  from  the  ancient  carved 
and  painted  horse  collars,  stood  about  the  room.  Hand- 
made hangings  from  designs  by  Munthe  decorated  the 
walls.  Not  one  colour  jarred,  yet  all  was  as  bright 
as  it  well  could  be,  and  so  exactly  what  a  house  built 
of  wood  requires. 

Heer  was  full  of  the  fete  that  he  was  organising 
for  the  reception  of  King  Haakon  vn.,  who  was  to 
arrive  that  day  or  the  morning  of  the  next.  Accom- 
panying us  to  the  quay,  he  told  how  all  the  boats 
were  to  collect  and  row  out  to  meet  the  yacht.  The 
people  were  all  to  be  dressed  in  gala  costume,  and, 
after  rounding  to,  while  singing  the  national  air, 


1 66    TIME  AND  TIDE  WAIT  FOR  NO  MAN 

were  to  go  ahead  and  lead  her  to  her  anchorage. 
Unfortunately  time  and  tide  wait  for  no  man.  The 
Vectis  steamed  slowly  away,  leaving  Balholm  a  grand 
silhouette  of  purple  mountains  against  a  gorgeous  yellow 


CHAPTER  X 

LOEN,  MEROK,  NAES,  AND  MOLDE 

IT  was  just  the  soft  twilight  of  the  midnight  hour 
when  we  again  steamed  out  to  sea,  on  our  way  to 
the  Nord  Fjord,  which  runs  parallel  to  the  Sogne  Fjord, 
one  degree  of  latitude  farther  north.  This  district,  with 
that  of  Nord  Fjord,  in  the  old  days  formed  the  ancient 
Firdafylke.  It  was  delightful  to  linger,  but  still  it  was 
necessary  to  have  some  hours  of  sleep.  Oddly  enough, 
it  was  the  days  at  sea,  when  the  clatter  and  noise  of  the 
working  ship  merged  into  that  of  the  water  rushing 
past,  that  it  was  possible  to  sleep.  Towards  the  end 
of  the  journey  it  was  difficult  to  say  if  the  fog-horn  had 
sounded  or  if  the  anchor  had  been  let  go  during  the 
night. 

We  laughed  heartily  early  in  the  cruise  when  the 
captain  had  told  us  that  he  had  been  asked  seriously, 
by  a  poor  soul  suffering  from  insomnia,  if  he  considered 
that  the  quiet  of  board-ship  life  would  restore  him  so 
far  as  to  enable  him  to  sleep.  The  slightest  noise 
woke  him  at  that  time.  The  captain  answered,  "  Yes, 
come  on  board  and  see."  In  this  he  was  right,  but  it 
was  the  noise  that  made  the  invalid  sleep,  and  not  the 
quiet.  For  a  man  suffering  as  he  was,  I  should  say,  take 
a  cruise  where  the  ship  is  constantly  in  motion. 

Before  turning  in  I  asked  the  night  steward  to  tap 
gently  at  my  cabin  door  as  we  came  to  the  mouth  of 

167 


168  HORNELEN 

the  fjord.  The  tap  came  all  too  soon.  I  rose  and  went 
on  deck,  and  watched  the  giant  rocks  gather  and  separate, 
assuming  new  groupings  and  forms  as  we  approached 
and  slipped  past  them.  The  sea  birds  rose  and  dipped 
again  in  our  wake,  flying  away  with  shrill  cries  and 
beating  wings.  For  the  rest  all  was  silence  in  these 
rock-begirt  waters.  To  the  right  there  was  some  relief 
in  the  grey  moss-grown  rocks  by  a  few  slender  waterfalls. 
Then  came  Hornelen,  for  which  I  was  missing  sleep  and 
comfort.  There  it  stood,  rising  sheer  out  of  the  water 
for  2940  feet  in  an  extremely  narrow  passage  at  the 
north-east  angle  of  the  island  of  Bremanger.  It  looked 
a  huge  wall  of  granite,  tremendous  in  proportion  to  its 
surroundings,  the  summit  considerably  overhanging  the 
base.  The  driving  mist  that  had  arisen  with  the  dawn 
gave  it  a  look  of  ghostly  and  threatening  aspect.  The  air 
was  chilly,  the  deck  uninviting  and  damp,  and  no  place 
for  pleasure  seekers.  Tightening  my  rug  around  my 
shoulders,  I  again  retired  to  the  seclusion  of  my  cabin. 
The  ship  steamed  on ;  up  the  Nord  Fjord  that  bifurcates 
at  the  head  of  Daviks  Fjord.  Eyds  Fjord  branches  a  little 
more  to  the  north,  and  so  too  Hornindalsvand.  Is  Fjord, 
a  little  to  the  south,  changes  its  name  at  each  little  bend, 
and  winds  away  in  six  branches  or  minor  fjords,  four  of 
which  are  connected  to  big  lakes,  at  whose  head  descend 
the  Jostedal  glaciers. 

The  next  bend  after  Is  Fjord  is  Hundviks  Fjord,  with 
its  branch,  the  Gloppen,  noted  for  its  beautiful  walks 
and  good  trout  fishing.  Steamers  ply  three  times  a  week 
to  Bergen,  and  five  times  weekly  to  Faleide,  Loen,  and 
Olden.  These  last  are  three  magnificent  spots  to  visit.  The 
main  fjord  again  changes  its  name  to  Ult  Fjord,  and 
the  last  bend  to  Invik.  Visnaes  was  just  in  sight  as  I 
passed  through  the  saloon,  where  early  breakfast  was 


LOEN  169 

being  served  to  the  party  who  were  leaving  for  the 
overland  tour  to  Merok.  The  outlook  was  not  cheerful. 
Visnaes  was  hardly  visible,  owing  to  a  damp  mist  that 
lay  across  the  fjord  in  bands,  rising  and  mixing  with 
the  smoke  from  the  hamlet. 

Vectis  slowed  and  stopped  whilst  a  launch  and  boat 
were  being  lowered,  then  steamed  slowly  on  to  Loen, 
dropping  anchor  in  the  bay  formed  by  the  head  of  the 
fjord.  The  sun  was  just  breaking  through  the  mist. 
The  fjord  lay  like  a  piece  of  glass,  a  clear  pearly  grey. 
Each  dip  of  the  oars  and  wake  of  the  boats  as  they 
pushed  off  from  the  shore  left  a  sparkling  trail  behind. 
Every  line  of  a  pretty  white  yacht  was  reflected,  backed 
by  the  high  mountains  upside  down.  The  two  big 
hotels  standing  a  little  back  also  reflected  in  long  white 
lines  quite  double  their  height,  and  with  twice  as  many 
windows.  To  one  side  ran  the  road  by  which  we  were 
to  drive  to  Lake  Loen.  It  rose  upwards  through  fields 
of  long  flowering  grass,  to  a  group  of  houses  near  which 
on  the  right-hand  side  stood  the  church  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Loendal.  A  few  more  farms  interspersed  with 
little  birch  trees  gathered  here  and  there  by  the 
mountains.  The  Lofjeld  rose  to  the  north  with  its  zone 
of  birch  and  fir,  through  which  trickled  little  veins  of 
waterfalls  (little  only  from  their  distance).  Then  came 
rocks  and  patches  of  snow,  and  above  all  the  almost 
perpendicular  steeps  with  rounded  back  on  which  lay 
perpetual  snows.  To  the  south  the  Auflemsfjeld  towered 
some  5090  feet  high. 

The  fii-st  horn  sounded  at  ten  for  the  boats,  and  by  the 
time  the  second  horn  was  about  to  rend  the  air  with  its 
raucous  voice  a  large  party  had  collected  in  the  gang- 
way, at  the  head  of  the  accommodation  ladder.  It  was 
a  boat  full  that  put  off  for  the  shore.  As  usual  the 


170  LAKE  LOEN 

stolkjaerres  were  waiting  on  the  quay,  and  were  soon 
jogging  along  the  road  we  had  seen  from  the  ship.  As 
we  drove  through  the  valley  the  trees  in^  places  almost 
closed  overhead.  We  came  up  with  bright-faced  tall 
girls,  stepping  out,  their  kirtles  kilted  well  up,  clear 
of  the  muddy  road,  in  scarlet  bodice  with  little  white 
shawls  thrown  over  their  heads.  It  was  amusing  to  see 
one  damsel  after  the  other  catch  hold  of  the  rail  at 
the  side  of  the  driver,  and  with  one  foot  on  the  step 
climb  deftly  into  the  seat  alongside  him.  By  and  by 
my  turn  came,  and  I  who  was  alone  in  front  felt  a 
heavy  weight  aft,  my  seat  in  the  meantime  becoming 
most  uncomfortable.  I  turned  and  saw  a  staid-faced 
maid  was  seated  behind,  her  hands  demurely  clasped  in 
her  lap.  I  made  my  driver  stop,  and  invited  her  to 
fill  the  seat  alongside  me,  and  then  jogged  along 
comfortably  enough.  Later  I  realised  that  we  were 
carrying  with  us  the  light-handed  Phyllises  that  were  to 
minister  to  our  wants  at  the  rest  house  at  the  end 
of  the  lake. 

The  little  steamers  are  not  very  comfortable  or  very 
clean,  but  the  views  from  their  decks  are  superb.  In 
Norway  one  seems  always  to  be  using  the  superlative, 
but  in  this  case,  as  in  the  Naero  and  Geiranger  Fjords, 
it  is  quite  allowable.  Nowhere  did  I  see  any  more 
beautiful  lake,  beginning  as  it  did  with  fishermen's 
huts,  upstanding  hay  behind,  and  outspread  nets,  and 
upturned  boats  on  the  rocks  in  front.  To  one  side  was 
a  great  shoulder  thickly  clothed  with  firs ;  on  the 
other,  a  thin  tongue  of  land  with  waving  birch  and 
meadows;  and  in  the  middle  three  rocks,  with  one, 
three,  and  five  trees  on  each.  The  winding  vand 
beyond  was  shut  out  by  one  mountain  bluff  after 
another,  growing  paler  and  paler,  till  the  last  lap  lost 


TURF-ROOFED  GAARDS  OF  NAESDAL     171 

itself  in  the  clouds,  with  a  blue  tinted  glacier  spread- 
ing beneath. 

Sandenib  rises  on  the  left,  with  Auflemsfjeld  and  the 
Melheimsnib  on  the  right,  all  over  5000  feet  high. 
From  all  the  mountains,  especially  the  Ravnefjeld, 
the  glaciers  terminate  abruptly,  and  melt  into  rills  and 
waterfalls.  On  the  west  side  of  the  lake  is  the  huge 
Hellesaeterbrae,  from  which  ice  avalanches  fall,  spreading 
out  below  like  a  fan.  Wherever  a  scrap  of  soil  lodged 
there  was  the  small  farm.  Here  stands  the  farm  of 
Rodi  at  the  foot  of  Kvoernhusfjeld,  and  the  farm  of 
Rodal  backed  by  Skaalfjeld,  with  the  Skaalebrae  out- 
pouring above.  The  lake  contracts  to  a  strait,  and  in 
front  towers  the  Nonsnib,  rising  sheer  to  the  over- 
whelming height  of  over  6000  feet.  Passing  through 
a  bend  of  the  lake  the  basin  of  Naesdal  opens  out 
with  the  Ravnefjeld  on  the  west,  the  great  Nonsnib 
to  the  south,  and  the  Bodalsfjeld  on  the  east,  with 
the  Kronebrae  and  the  Kjendalsbrae  peeping  between. 
Nothing  that  I  have  ever  seen  can  beat  the  grandeur  of 
the  scenery  around  Lake  Loen. 

It  was  but  a  year  ago,  under  the  towering  heights  at 
the  base  of  Nonsnib  where  the  land  looks  so  rich  and 
fertile,  that  the  turf-roofed  gaards  of  Naesdal  stood. 
These  were  within  hail  of  the  gaards  that  stood  on  the 
land  at  the  mouth  of  the  Kvandals-Elv,  which  watered 
the  valley.  This  was  a  most  sociable  spot  in  a  country 
where  the  farms  lie  scattered  with  miles  between.  A 
cheery  spot,  but  a  little  way  from  the  jetty  of  Kjendal, 
where  the  little  launch  brought  numerous  parties  of 
strangers  all  the  summer  long,  and  where  for  part  of 
the  day  the  gaily  dressed  maids  bustled,  and  laid  long 
tables  ready  for  the  hungry  tourists  who  visited  the 
Kjendalsbrae. 


i;2  NONSNIB 

In  front  of  the  gaard  rushed  the  strait  with  a  tongue 
of  Bodal  clothed  in  verdure  rising  on  the  opposite  shore. 
Behind  the  gaards  were  the  lush  fields  of  meadow -land, 
intersected  with  patches  of  bright  green  corn  and  the 
darker  green  of  the  potato.  As  the  land  receded, 
getting  steeper  and  steeper,  it  clothed  itself  with  birch 
and  alder,  which  climbed  to  where  the  glacier's  snows 
lay  in  streaks  upon  the  rocks,  and  melting  ran  in  a 
silver  cascade  from  ledge  to  ledge.  The  eternal  snow 
glistened  above  in  the  slightly  hollowed  shoulder  of 
Nonsnib,  which  in  the  early  morning  threw  its  great 
shadow  over  all  —  the  fjord  in  front,  and  the  upward 
slopes  of  Bodal.  None  saw  in  it  the  shadow  of  death. 
But  late  one  winter's  night,  when  the  snow  lay  thick 
over  all,  and  the  hard  frost  gripped  and  split,  Nonsnib 
shivered  as  he  felt  the  stab  of  the  cold  enter  deeper 
and  deeper  into  his  side.  But  groan  as  he  would,  the 
frost  jutul  stabbed  deeper  still.  With  a  roar  that  was 
heard  miles  and  miles  away  his  great  side  fell  out, 
carrying  with  it  the  smiling  prosperous  gaard  of  Naesdal, 
with  its  sleeping  bonder,  his  sons  and  daughters,  young 
men  and  maidens,  and  his  children's  children,  sixty 
souls  in  all,  to  the  bottom  of  the  fjord,  a  hundred 
fathoms  below.  The  fjord  rose  300  feet  in  pro- 
test, and  burst  its  bounds,  carrying  boats  and  sheds, 
fishing  gear,  cradles,  spinning  wheels,  and  roofing 
to  the  head  of  Loenvand.  There  they  lie  scattered  on 
the  shore  amongst  the  boats  and  nets  of  the  fishermen. 

This  all  happened  at  night  on  the  15th  of  January 
1906.  The  lake  that  was  .100  fathoms  deep  is  now 
only  20.  The  level  to  which  the  water  rose  is  recorded 
on  a  monument,  and  the  sister-ship  to  our  steam  launch 
rests  high  and  dry  amongst  the  birch  bushes  on  the  top 
of  a  hill.  A  big  faint  scar  on  the  mountain  side  is  now 


KJENDAL  173 

the  only  indication  of  the  disaster  which  overwhelmed 
the  smiling  homestead  of  Naesdal. 

All  was  bustle  on  the  landing  place  of  Kjendal.  The 
manager  of  the  hotel  at  Loen  and  his  waiting-maids 
were  carrying  box  after  box  of  food  and  hardware  to 
the  wooden  restaurant,  and  he  let  the  fact  be  known 
that  if  the  passengers  would  go  their  various  ways  a 
hot  lunch  would  be  ready  on  their  return.  Carts  were 
in  waiting  to  drive  to  the  foot  of  the  glacier.  Colts 
waited  in  readiness  to  start  with  the  cavalcade,  and 
gambolled  ahead  of  their  sturdy  mothers  all  the  way. 
The  road  was  bumpy  and  rough,  but  the  stolkjaerre 
went  over  everything,  till  we  arrived  at  a  swamp,  where 
willow  and  birch  bushes  thickly  covered  the  ground. 
The  sound  of  footsteps  was  hushed  in  the  springing 
moist  turf  and  the  noise  of  the  waterfalls.  The  last 
part  of  the  way  was  over  large  grey  boulders  and 
stepping-stones  to  the  foot  of  the  glacier.  It  resembles 
a  great  torrent  frozen  to  the  mountain  side,  whilst  above 
lies  the  pure  white  snow  from  which  the  glacier  is  borne 
glittering  in  the  sun.  The  glacier  at  Fjaerland  fell  from 
the  edge  of  a  snow  plateau.  The  glaciers  from  Jostedals- 
bra  flow  from  it,  and  at  its  base  the  stream  issues  from 
a  magnificent  vault  of  blue  ice.  It  was  not  safe  to  go 
too  near,  as  stones  were  pattering  down  all  the  time, 
and  in  some  cases  rebounded  a  considerable  distance. 
Arriving  back  at  Kjendal,  the  manager  had  been  as 
good  as  his  word.  Lunch  was  waiting.  A  hungry 
party  sat  down  to  salmon  with  cream  sauce,  stewed 
mutton,  some  kind  of  batter  eaten  with  bilberry  jam, 
and  very  good  light  Norwegian  beer.  It  was  a  drowsy 
party  that  once  more  retraced  its  way  down  the  beautiful 
lake.  Every  seat  in  the  stern  of  the  launch  was  occupied 
by  the  men,  and  soon  the  "  Vecti "  slept,  whilst  a 


174  MEROK 

Norwegian,    in    rapid    English    intermixed   with    Norsk, 
told  me  the  harrowing  tale  of  Nonsnib. 

Merok  (or  Moeraak)  is  a  small  hamlet  nestling  round 
the  head  of  the  wondrously  beautiful  Geiranger  basin. 
It  is  dominated  on  one  side  by  the  Saathorn,  some  5835 
feet  high;  and  on  the  right  by  the  snowfields  of  the 
Flydalshorn.  The  sound  of  rushing  water  fills  the  air, 
from  the  roaring,  foaming  Storfos.  that  from  the  heights 
above  looks  like  a  band  of  silver  against  the  dark  face 
of  the  mountain.  It  gathers  force  as  it  flows,  and  is 
joined  by  the  minor  waterfalls  of  the  Kleivafos,  Stor- 
saeterfos,  and  the  Holefos,  and  spreads  its  pale  green 
glacier  waters  in  a  broad  green  line  for  miles  down 
the  fjord.  The  few  scattered  houses  forming  the  ham- 
let are  built  on  an  old  moraine,  above  which  stands  the 
little  church  with  its  small  white  spire;  and  beyond 
again  a  fair  sized  comfortable  looking  hotel,  which  is 
not  the  only  one.  Though  the  place  is  so  small  it 
is  a  good  centre  for  excursions.  We  thought  it  quite 
odd  to  find  two  other  great  ships  besides  ourselves 
in  the  basin.  The  Blucher,  a  German  ship  far  bigger 
than  Vectis,  and  the  Argonaut.  In  no  other  part  of 
Norway  did  we  meet  so  many  tourists  at  one  time 
on  shore.  Launch  after  launch  towing  two  and  three 
boats  disembarked  their  passengers  on  the  small  quay, 
where  a  big  array  of  superior  looking,  highly  varnished 
and  red-cushioned  stolkjaerres  awaited  the  arrivals. 

With  very  few  exceptions  the  horses  were  a  light 
drab  colour,  hog-maned,  and  with  their  tails  plaited 
with  bright  coloured  braids.  The  stolkjaerres  were 
soon  occupied,  and  the  long  line  trotted  off  in  their 
order,  which  often  makes  it  very  dull  work  for  the 
cars  in  the  rear  should  the  first  horse  be  a  slow  one. 
The  etiquette  brought  about  by  the  width  of  the 


A  ZIGZAG  ROAD  175 

roads  prohibits  one  car  from  passing  another.  The 
road  at  Merok  is  a  wonderful  piece  of  engineering, 
smooth  and  well  kept;  it  winds  and  winds  in  a  zigzag 
up  the  face  of  the  cliff  with  uniform  big  blocks  of 
stone  placed  on  the  edge  of  the  steep.  The  numerous 
bridges  are  built  like  the  cyclopean  walls  of  old,  of  care- 
fully sized  blocks  without  a  trace  of  cement  to  bind 
them  together.  Here  the  comparison  ends.  The  ancient 
Greeks  did  not  understand  the  building  of  arches ;  the 
Norwegians  do.  It  is  good  to  scramble  over  the  edge 
close  down  to  one  of  these,  and  admire  the  perfect 
construction  that  stands  the  bruising  and  beating  of 
the  torrent  as  it  rushes  through.  The  water  strikes  the 
boulders  in  its  descent,  and  throws  a  fine  spray  over 
the  long-bending  grasses  and  delicate  harebells  that 
line  its  path  on  either  side. 

The  visitors,  English  and  German,  glanced  at  each 
other,  as  only  rival  nations  can,  as  they  met  on  the 
road.  The  more  active  members  of  both  parties  dis- 
carded the  stolkjaerres,  taking  short  cuts  from  one  level 
to  another  up  the  steep  stony  banks.  Up  one  steep 
Teuton  and  Briton  joined  hands.  Neither  could  have 
done  without  the  other.  The  obstacle  to  be  surmounted 
was  a  boulder,  round,  long,  and  smooth,  with  but  very 
slight  foothold  in  a  crevice  where  it  joined  on  to 
the  face  of  the  cliff.  Young  Germany  was  thin,  tall, 
and  spectacled.  Frau  smiling  and  stout.  Herr  very 
stout,  red  in  the  face,  and  carefully  enveloped  in  a 
soft  brown  shawl  whose  fringed  points  hung  down  back 
and  front,  nearly  touching  the  ground.  Frau  said 
"  Com,"  and  young  Germany  sprang  to  the  front, 
making  a  dash  for  the  rock,  his  finger-tips  barely 
holding  on  to  the  ledge.  The  Briton  brought  up 
reinforcement  in  the  shape  of  a  big  birch  bough,  which 


1 76          "CHERRMANS  TO  DEE  FRONT" 

supported  him  in  the  rear  till  he  had  a  firm  hold. 
Herr  waved  and  shouted,  "Cherrmans  to  dee  front,' 
quoting  Admiral  Seymour.  Holding  on  to  young 
Germany's  outstretched  hand,  the  British  scrambled  up 
next.  Frau  was  hauled  up,  laughing,  bunched  and 
plump.  Herr  exclaimed :  "  It  tis  impossible ;  mein  fat 
will  not  allow1';  but  Briton  and  German  held  out  a 
helping  hand,  and  Herr,  willy-nilly,  amid  much  laughter, 
was  hauled  to  the  top.  "  Mein  Gott,"  he  panted,  "  the 
fat  of  the  son  of  my  father  was  never  meant  to  climb." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  winding  road,  and  after 
crossing  a  noisy  brook,  a  corner  was  found  suitable 
for  the  artist  to  wield  his  brush.  To  one  side  was 
the  typical  new  gaard  (or  farm),  with  its  big  living 
house,  bare  of  any  ornament,  painted  white  picked  out 
with  red.  The  storerooms  were  below,  and  behind 
the  great  barn  with  hayloft  and  stables.  Every  avail- 
able morsel  of  soil  was  carefully  tilled  up  to  the  bare 
rocks,  where  pasturage  stopped.  The  firs  and  birch 
continued  the  march,  crowning  the  summit  of  the  near 
hills.  Beyond  again  lay  the  mountain  peaks,  purple 
in  the  distance,  seamed  and  lined  with  great  patches 
of  snow. 

At  our  feet  in  a  slight  hollow  was  an  old  farm, 
far  more  picturesque  in  every  way  than  the  new.  What 
paint  could  beat  the  silvery  grey  of  the  old  timber ! 
And  what  roofing  could  possibly  compete  with  the 
birch-barks  covered  with  flowering  turf!  The  buildings 
cluster  closer  together,  like  some  small  settlement,  and 
give  a  look  of  comfort  that  the  newer  farms  do  not 
possess.  All  around  is  the  waving  grass,  and  a  mass 
of  our  ordinary  English  wild  flowers, — giant  harebells, 
that  go  so  well  with  the  mauve  scabious ;  cow  parsley, 
with  its  light,  lacey,  flat  heads  of  bloom ;  long  thin- 


GEIR ANGER  FJORD  177 

stemmed  buttercups ;  great  pink  heads  of  sweet  clover ; 
small  heartsease,  and  patches  of  pale  yellow  snapdragon. 
The  grass  stood  high,  ready  for  the  little  scythe  that 
cuts  round  every  stone,  great  or  small.  The  careful 
husbandman  does  not  miss  a  blade  up  or  down  the 
hill,  on  the  bank  or  in  the  ditch. 

Lower  still  were  thick  groves  of  trees,  the  thin  spray 
of  the  hidden  waterfalls  rising  above  the  leafy  boughs, 
and  then  came  a  rich  level  of  lush  pasture,  of  an 
intense  green.  In  the  mead  the  men  worked  in  their 
shirt  sleeves,  though  the  rain  had  begun  to  fall,  and 
soon  came  down  steadily.  Unable  to  cope  with  the 
weather,  we  resumed  our  upward  walk  to  the  farm  of 
Flydal,  from  which  we  obtained  an  excellent  view  of 
the  Flydalshorn  and  the  Blaahorn,  while  still  higher 
was  the  Flydalsbrae,  a  snowy  glacier  scarred  by  huge 
crevices.  On  our  way  back  we  stopped  for  a  moment 
to  look  over  a  jutting  rock,  an  abyss  several  hundred 
feet  deep  to  the  level  of  the  valley  below.  The  Storfos 
hurrying  to  the  fjord  lay  at  our  feet.  Great  rocks 
strewed  the  meadows,  intersected  with  copses  of  birch 
and  alder.  From  this  coign  of  vantage  we  looked  into 
the  amphitheatre  which  forms  the  end  and  head  of 
the  Geiranger,  which  fitly  closes  this  magnificent  gorge, 
forming  a  contrast  to  the  bare  rock  sentinels  on  either 
side,  ending  as  it  does  richly  clothed  with  woods  and 
pasture. 

Overwhelming  is  the  word  that  seems  to  describe 
this  wonderful  Geiranger  Fjord.  Other  fjords  we  had 
steamed  through  were  fine,  beautiful,  and  even  sublime, 
but  none  came  up  to  Geiranger.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
evening  light  that  made  it  look  so  stupendous;  but 
be  that  as  it  may,  Geiranger  is  the  fjord  one  remembers 
best.  The  narrow  dark  waters  reflect  the  long  white 
12 


i;8  UNDER  THE  SHADOW  OF  MIGHTY  CLIFFS 

waterfalls  that  everywhere  tip  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliffs.  The  many  curious  formations,  and  the  farms 
perched  on  what  look  inaccessible  heights,  all  combine 
to  make  this  one  of  the  most  weird  arms  of  the  sea. 

Steaming  quite  slowly,  we  wended  our  way  down, 
passing  on  our  right  the  gaard  of  Grande,  overtopped 
by  the  Lanshorn.  A  little  farther  down  the  cliffs  took  the 
curious  resemblance  of  some  giant's  profile,  and  high  above 
the  water  rose  the  famous  pulpit  rock.  The  next  bend 
revealed  the  Seven  Sisters  waterfall  streaming  down  the 
face  of  the  worn  grey  granite;  seven  they  say,  but  this 
must  be  when  the  snows  are  first  melting.  We  could 
count  but  four  side  by  side.  High  up  on  the  slope  near 
them  is  the  gaard  of  Knivsflaa ;  its  fields  slope  down  to 
the  perpendicular  cliffs  of  the  fjord,  and  look  all  but 
inaccessible  to  man  or  beast.  I  heard  it  was  necessary 
to  tether  the  babies  for  fear  of  their  rolling  over  the 
edge. 

Under  the  deep  shadows  of  these  mighty  cliffs  the 
ship  glides  along  her  course,  bordered  on  either  side  by 
walls  of  grey  granite,  down  which  are  great  black  stains 
as  though  water  was  soaking  into  the  surface  of  the  stone. 
The  scenery  was  so  stupendous  that  a  hush  fell  over  us 
all,  as  though  we  were  in  church.  High  above  the 
water  fell,  but  from  a  rock  so  steep  that  it  lost  itself  in 
falling.  Another  betrayed  its  existence  only  by  the 
stretch  of  white  foam  on  the  fjord  below.  Falls  seemed 
to  come  from  out  the  clouds,  and  others  like  light  white 
veils  blew  to  one  side  or  another.  Under  the  deep 
shadows  the  ship  crept  silently  on. 

We  steamed  out  to  sea  and  through  Molde  Fjord  in 
the  night,  and  right  along  the  arm  of  the  Romsdal 
Fjord,  anchoring  in  Is  Fjord  off  Aandalsnaes.  One  blast 
had  sounded  for  the  shore,  which  at  the  moment  looked 


THE  ROMSDALHORN  179 

anything  but  tempting.  A  cold  drizzle  was  falling,  and 
the  outlines  of  the  mountains  that  girdled  the  fjord  were 
dimmed  and  in  some  places  entirely  blotted  out.  This 
stretch  of  water,  usually  so  beautiful,  was  wrinkled  and 
fretted,  with  dull-coloured  wavelets  striking-  yet  another 
dreary  note  in  the  universal  grey.  Nevertheless  the 
shore  boats  were  full.  Some  were  for  driving;  some 
for  walking.  At  the  quay  the  stolkjaerres  and  karjoles 
were  waiting  in  close  line,  the  horses  more  gaily  equipped 
than  in  most  other  towns. 

Aandalsnaes,  or  Naes,  is  the  chief  approach  to  the 
Romsdal,  and  the  enchanting  valley  of  the  Rauma.  At 
first  the  walking  was  but  slow,  as  it  was  necessary  to 
stand  aside  as  each  cart  passed.  It  was  better,  on  the 
whole,  to  look  at  the  houses  and  hotels,  and  drink  in  the 
sweet  smell  of  flowers,  till  the  last  had  driven  by,  and 
then  step  out  along  the  moist  red  road.  This  valley  has 
a  world- wide  fame,  and  is  really  beautiful  from  the 
entrance  at  Naes  to  the  foot  of  Romsdalshorn  at 
Horgheim,  a  distance  of  about  eight  easily  walked 
miles.  The  great  Romsdalshorn,  5100  feet  high,  dominates 
the  valley.  It  is  first  seen  with  beautiful  delicate  woods 
in  the  foreground,  of  alder,  birch,  and  ash,  growing  thickly 
down  the  banks,  and  flourishing  on  tongues  of  land  that 
stretch  into  the  river.  These  form  broad  pools,  which 
in  their  turn  reflect  every  leaf  and  branch  of  the  over- 
hanging trees.  Silver  sand  and  pebble  beaches  fringe 
the  edge. 

As  one  ascends  the  valley  gets  wilder,  the  mountains 
rising  patched  with  forest  growths.  The  trees  look 
up  and  around,  finding  room  to  expand  their  arms  here 
and  there.  They  clothe  the  ravine's  side  as  only 
Norwegian  trees  can ;  the  juniper,  fir,  the  birch  with 
her  rustling  leaves,  and  the  heather  cluster  together, 


i8o          THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  RAUMA 

reminding  me  of  the  prologue  of  Arne  by  Bjornson, 
in  which  the  trees  are  supposed  to  talk  together,  and 
have  made  up  their  minds  to  clothe  the  mountains. 
"  Before  long  the  Juniper  began  to  slip.  '  Catch  hold  of 
me,'  said  the  Heather.  Juniper  did  so,  and  when  there 
was  only  a  tiny  crevice  the  Heather  put  in  one  finger, 
and  where  the  Heather  put  a  finger  in,  there  the 
Juniper  worked  in  her  whole  hand.  On  they  clambered 
upward,  the  Fir  slowly  following  them,  and  the  Birch 
labouring  after.  'But  it's  God's  own  work,'  said  the 
Birch."  This  last  exactly  expresses  what  one  feels 
in  this  marvellous  country. 

Higher  up  the  pass  is  more  like  Glencoe  than  any 
other  place  I  know,  but  on  a  much  grander  scale.  Like 
Glencoe,  it  too  was  the  scene  of  the  massacre  of  Colonel 
Ramsay,  Captain  Sinclair,  and  nine  hundred  Scotch 
auxiliaries,  who  had  landed  a  few  days  before  at 
Veblungsnas  (the  little  point  across  the  Rauma  in  front 
of  Naes)  when  trying  to  force  their  way  through  Norway 
to  join  the  Swedes,  then  at  war  with  the  Norwegians. 
They  were  intercepted  by  an  ambush  of  three  hundred 
peasants  at  this  spot.  The  natives  had  felled  trees  and 
collected  a  huge  pile  of  stones  on  the  hill  above  the 
road,  which  they  hurled  down  on  the  invaders.  Most 
of  the  Scots  were  thus  destroyed,  and  almost  all  the 
survivors  put  to  the  sword.  This  happened  on  the 
26th  of  August  1612.  Details  can  be  found  in  Thomas 
Michell's  History  of  the  Scottish  Expedition  to  Norway, 

This  glen  is  said  to  be  a  great  fault,  with  an  anticlinal 
axis,  and  an  upthrow  of  granite  in  the  crack.  But  since 
the  world's  crust  was  bent  and  broken  the  glen  has  been 
full  of  ice.  The  breadth  from  cliff  to  cliff  may  be  about 
two  miles,  the  space  between  being  filled  with  a  series 
of  flat  steps,  which  are  made  of  sand  and  boulders,  many 


THE  MONGEFOS  181 

of  which  are  of  enormous  size.  Big  stones  are  piled  in 
mounds  and  ridges,  amongst  which  firs,  birches,  willow, 
and  alder  grow.  Looking  down  the  valley,  the  course 
of  the  ice  is  marked  so  clearly  that  it  is  impossible  to 
misunderstand  the  record.  Where  the  stream  ran  against 
the  bank  in  a  bay  the  cliffs  are  deeply  scored  to  a  height 
of  about  a  thousand  feet ;  where  the  ice  turned  sharp 
round  the  foot  of  the  horn,  the  marks  are  fresh.  Talus 
heaps  which  have  crumbled  from  weathered  peaks  above, 
and  a  small  drain  washed  through  boulder-heaps  below, 
are  the  marks  made  by  weathering  and  rivers ;  but  they 
are  insignificant  beside  these  ice  marks. 

From  a  small  lake  close  to  Fokstuen,  which  is  about 
3000  feet  above  the  present  sea  level,  a  stream 
runs  to  the  Glommen,  passes  Kongs  Vinger,  and  enters 
the  Skagerak.  It  is  joined  by  a  stream  which  starts 
from  a  lake  near  Roraas,  and  from  hills  near  Roraas 
water  runs  to  Elfdal,  to  Hudiksvalla,  to  Gefle,  and  to 
Trollhattan. 

The  mountains  were  still  smothered  in  great  white 
clouds,  but  we  kept  on  through  the  drizzle  and  were 
fully  rewarded,  as  the  body  of  the  clouds  soon  dissolved, 
leaving  only  some  feathery  white  mist  which  clung  about 
the  torrent  gullies  of  the  mountain  sides,  and  then  slowly 
melted  into  sunshine.  All  the  torrents,  streams  and 
cascades  were  at  work,  from  the  roaring  leaps  of  the 
Rauma  to  Staubbachs  innumerable,  Giessbachs,  Richen- 
bachs,  twin  Handecks, — in  fact,  every  type  of  waterfall 
that  pours  and  dashes  down  their  own  chosen  courses. 
The  finest  of  these  was  situated  about  half-way  between 
Flatmark  and  Horgheim  stations ;  it  is  called  the 
Mongefos,  that  descends  from  the  Mongegjura  some 
4230  feet  above.  Looking  up,  with  an  effort  that  strains 
the  neck,  to  the  frowning  wall  of  rock,  a  torrent  is  seen, 


182  HOW  THE  WATER  FALLS 

pouring  apparently  out  of  the  blue.  It  bends  smoothly 
over  the  topmost  edge,  as  blue  as  the  sky  itself,  as 
clear  as  crystal,  with  the  light  shining  through.  Then 
it  is  lost,  having  made  a  first  plunge  of  a  hundred  feet 
or  so  down  into  a  boiling  cauldron  which  it  has  worn 
out  of  the  rock  by  its  everlasting  blows.  Again  it 
reappears,  shattered  to  snowy  fragments,  and,  striking 
the  rock  once  more,  spreads  out  and  tears  down  a 
long,  rugged  slope,  in  white  fleeces  of  broken  water. 
At  every  resisting  ledge  clouds  of  fine  spray  and  mist 
dash  out,  the  sunlight  tinting  them  here  and  there 
with  bands  of  lovely  rainbows.  Then  a  great  ledge 
bars  its  path,  and  it  bounds  upwards  and  forwards 
into  the  free  air;  and,  bruised  and  battered  into  mere 
water-dust,  fine  and  light,  it  struggles  even  with  the 
slight  resistance  of  the  air,  and  descends  with  slow, 
unvarying  speed  some  four  or  five  hundred  feet  more. 
Next  it  showers  upon  another  slope  of  rock,  spreads  into 
a  multitude  of  little  rills,  and  disappears  again,  till  at 
last  it  rushes  under  the  road  to  join  the  Rauma,  and 
keeps  its  company  to  the  all-absorbing  seas.  In  nearly 
all  the  breaks  and  hollows  of  the  dark  precipitous  rocks 
are  patches  of  snow,  some  of  them  so  low  as  almost  to 
touch  the  cornfields.  Amongst  all  this  wild  sublimity 
there  are  rich  substantial  farms  along  the  table-lands 
of  the  terraces.  Should  the  day  be  wet  a  very  short 
skirt  is  advisable  for  this  walk. 

Some  people  think  the  Romsdal  Fjord,  which  is  a  con- 
tinuation of  Molde  Fjord,  is  one  of  the  (many)  finest  in 
Norway,  and  that  the  view  from  Molde,  alone  is  worth 
the  journey.  That  Molde  is  worth  the  journey  I  quite 
agree,  but  the  fjord  at  Molde  is  beautiful  without 
being  sublime.  To  the  north  are  a  series  of  weathered 
peaks,  broken  beds  of  rock,  which  start  away  from 


MOLDE  183 

the  famous  Romsdalshorn,  an  obelisk  of  granite  about 
4000  feet  high,  off  which  the  snow  slides  sheer  down 
into  the  valley.  The  foot  of  man  is  apt  to  slide,  as  all 
climbers  know,  where  snow  cannot  rest.  Yes,  Molde's 
Fjords  and  Romsdal  Fjord  are  beautiful,  and  from  their 
extended  waters  something  like  fifty  peaks  can  be 
seen. 

Tang  tang,  tang  tang,  ring  out  the  bells  of  Molde 
across  the  waters  of  the  calm  fjord.  What  could  it  be  ? 
Fire  ?  Someone  else  suggested  a  christening,  another 
a  burial,  but  all  were  wrong.  They  were  joy  bells  for 
a  wedding.  Tang  tang,  tang  tang,  went  on  the  bells, 
changing  as  the  visitors  were  stepping  on  shore  to  ding 
dong ;  wock,  much  more  slowly  rung,  reminding  one 
of  the  old  Norfolk  church,  with  its  three  bells,  one  made 
of  leather  that  would  only  ring  out  wock.  Molde  was 
likewise  decorated  with  flags,  much  sunshine,  and,  for 
Norway,  many  flowers,  by  which  I  mean  garden  flowers. 
Roses  grew  in  profusion,  with  pale  yellow  honeysuckle, 
masses  of  bright  poppies,  and  a  tall  graceful  spiraea. 

Curiosity  and  the  bells  dogged  one^s  footsteps.  All 
unthinking  we  took  the  steep  path  up  the  hill  to  the 
nice  wooden  church  with  a  pretty  steeple.  Outside  were 
a  number  of  stolkjaerres  for  the  guests,  and  one  closed 
carriage  from  which  the  bride,  clothed  in  white  satin, 
was  just  stepping.  The  procession  passed  into  the 
church,  the  door  being  shut  against  unbidden  guests. 
The  stolkjaerre  drivers,  leaning  against  their  carts,  the 
rope  reins  held  slack  in  their  hands,  eyed  the  strangers 
stolidly.  To  all  questions  with  regard  to  entering  the 
church  they  shook  their  heads,  so  that  one  by  one  the 
group  that  had  been  collected  by  the  bell  straggled  away. 
The  road  ran  between  an  avenue  of  trees  with  farms  and 
private  houses  standing  in  well-kept  gardens  on  oije 


1 84  MOLDE  FJORD 

side,  on  the  other  a  magnificent  view  of  the  Molde  Fjord, 
lying  grey  and  shimmering,  with  the  wonderful  range  of 
blue  mountains  going  away  and  away  to  what  seemed 
the  open  sea. 

Again  the  bells  rang  a  joyous  peal  The  bride  had 
left;  the  ceremony  over,  nothing  but  a  few  withered 
flowers  remained  where  the  bride  had  lately  stood.  The 
door  was  now  opened,  and  inside  on  a  little  table  rested 
the  alms  box.  The  church  was  filled  with  a  faint  sweet 
smell  of  syringa  and  honeysuckle,  that  was  tied  and  twined 
round  the  altar  rails,  and  now  hung  drooping  in  the  still 
close  atmosphere.  Behind  the  altar  was  the  great  picture 
painted  by  Axel  Ender,  of  the  angel  sitting  on  the  tomb 
of  our  Lord,  telling  the  sorrowing  women  that  He  had 
risen.  The  colour  is  striking  and  harmonious,  and  the 
picture  lit  up  the  whole  end  of  the  church. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Molde  is  so  popular. 
It  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  places  in  Norway.  There  is 
nothing  grand,  savage,  or  overwhelming  about  it,  but  as 
a  resting-place  when  the  limbs  are  weary  of  wandering  it 
cannot  be  surpassed.  There  is  nothing  remarkable  about 
the  town  itself,  consisting  as  it  does  of  one  long  main  street 
and  a  few  bylanes  with  houses  and  public  buildings  of 
the  most  ordinary  character.  The  two  hotels,  the 
Alexandra  and  the  Grand,  are  large  and  generally  filled 
to  overflowing.  Plenty  of  shops  line  each  side  of  the 
street,  where  bric-a-brac,  jewellery,  toys,  nice  furs,  and 
beautiful  light  eider  skin  rugs  can  be  bought.  There  is 
also  a  bazaar,  where  one  can  see  thousands  of  varieties 
of  Norwegian  carvings  and  modelled  work,  native  costumes, 
knives,  and  embroideries. 

There  are  piers  and  quays  and  warehouses  along  the 
shore,  as  Molde  does  a  very  fair  amount  of  small  shipping 
business.  Many  steamers  like  our  own  call,  stay  some 


CHARMING  SURROUNDINGS  185 

hours  or  days,  and  add  not  a  little  to  the  prosperity  of 
the  town,  as  few  of  the  passengers  leave  without  spending 
in  furs  and  knick-knacks  more  than  they  had  any  intention 
of  doing. 

The  chief  charm  of  Molde  is  its  surroundings.  Every 
part  of  the  town  looks  out  upon  a  vast  expanse  of  water, 
which  presents  the  appearance  of  an  immense  lake  some 
eight  miles  across  and  thirty  to  thirty -five  from  end  to 
end.  This  expanse  of  water  is  broken  by  the  long  islands 
of  Gjerto,  Soetero,  and  Faaro.  On  the  opposite  shore  of 
this  great  lake  is  ranged  a  panorama  of  mountains  that 
skirts  its  entire  length, — a  long  array  of  peaks  and  horns 
and  fjords  with  unfamiliar  names.  The  only  one  easily 
recognised  is  the  sugar-loaf  crown  of  the  Romsdalshorn 
and  the  sharp  needles  of  the  Troltinderne  in  the  middle 
of  the  range.  The  hills  behind  Molde  abound  in  delight- 
ful walks.  They  are  clothed  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  ridge  with  pine,  birch,  horse-chestnuts,  limes,  ash, 
and  cherry  trees  ;  roses  abound,  and  some  of  the  houses  are 
overgrown  with  honeysuckle.  Sheltered  from  the  northerly 
and  westerly  storms,  the  vegetation  is  surprisingly 
luxuriant,  though  Molde  is  nearly  three  degrees  of 
latitude  north  of  St.  Petersburg.  One  has  the  choice  of 
rambling  in  neglected  wildernesses,  or  following  the  well- 
made  roads  and  paths  which  wind  up  to  the  heights.  The 
most  easily  accessible  of  these  is  Reknaeshaugen,  a  canopied 
terrace  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  little  public  park 
intersected  with  winding  walks.  Going  farther  up  the 
varde,  one  comes  to  a  wooden  pleasure-house  about  half- 
way to  the  top  of  the  hill,  from  which  it  is  an  easy 
walk  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  From  Tor  Stuen  a 
magnificent  and  more  extended  view  of  the  mountain 
ranges  can  be  seen  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  grand  view  of 
the  sea  and  the  rocky  islands  that  fringe  the  coast  on  the 


1 86  BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 

other.  The  roads  are  excellent  that  skirt  the  margin  of 
the  shore  for  scores  of  miles,  and  by  one  route,  a  whole 
day's  journey,  it  is  possible  to  make  the  entire  circuit  of 
the  peninsula  on  which  Molde  stands. 

The  place  is  never  dull ;  people  pass  to  and  fro  from  the 
steamers,  engage  karjoles  and  stolkjaerres,  or  settle  up 
with  their  skydsgut.  The  luggage  taken  to  and  fro  from 
the  landing  stage,  and  the  vessels  and  boats,  large  and 
small,  arriving  and  departing,  are  a  constant  source  of 
interest.  The  great  lake  reflecting  the  sunset,  the  wide 
expanse  of  water  ever  before  you,  ruffled  by  the  wind, 
or  a  beautiful  calm,  are  scenes  of  which  one  never 
wearies. 

Bjornstjerne  Bjornson  was  born  on  the  8th  December 
1832  at  the  farmstead  of  Bjorgen,  in  Kvikne,  in  Oster- 
dalen.  In  1837  his  father,  who  had  been  priest  of 
Kvikne,  was  transferred  to  the  parish  of  Noesset,  in 
Romsdalen.  In  this  romantic  place  the  childhood  of 
Bjornson  was  spent.  In  1841  he  was  sent  to  school  at 
the  neighbouring  town  of  Molde,  and  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  to  Christiania  to  study  for  the  University; 
his  instinct  for  poetry  was  already  awakened,  and  indeed 
he  had  written  verses  from  his  eleventh  year.  He  took 
his  degree  at  the  University  of  Christiania  in  1852, 
and  began  to  work  as  a  journalist,  especially  as  a 
dramatic  critic.  His  progress  was,  however,  slow.  It 
was  not  until  1856  that  in  Thrond,  the  earliest  of  his 
short  stories,  he  began  to  develop  his  real  talent.  In 
1857  appeared  Synnove  Solbakken,  the  first  of  Bjornson's 
peasant  novels,  followed  by  Arne,  A  Happy  Boy,  and 
The  Fisher  Maiden.  These  are  the  most  important 
specimens  of  his  "  bonde-fortaellinger,"  or  peasant  tales — 
a  section  of  his  literary  work  which  has  made  a  profound 
impression  in  his  own  country,  and  has  made  him  popular 


PURE  PEASANT  STORIES  187 

throughout  the  world.  These  novels  are  full  of  freshness 
and  beauty  combined  with  remarkable  realism.  Two 
of  these  tales,  Arne  and  Synnove  SolbakTcen,  are  nearly 
perfect,  and  offer  finer  examples  of  the  pure  peasant  story 
than  are  to  be  found  elsewhere  in  literature. 

Bjornson  was  anxious,  as  he  puts  it,  "  to  create  a  new 
saga  in  the  life  of  the  peasant,"  and  he  thought  this 
should  be  done  not  merely  in  prose  fiction,  but  in 
national  dramas  or  "  folke-stykker."  The  earliest  of 
these  was  Between  the  Battles,  written  in  1855,  but 
not  produced  till  1857.  It  was  followed  by  Lame  Hulda 
and  King  Sverre.  All  these  efforts,  however,  were  far 
excelled  by  the  splendid  trilogy  of  Sigurd  the  Bastard, 
which  Bjornson  issued  in  1862,  and  Sigurd  the  Crusader, 
which  was  not  printed  until  1872.  This  raised  him  to 
front  rank  among  the  younger  poets  of  Europe. 

At  the  close  of  1857  Bjornson  was  appointed  director 
of  the  theatre  at  Bergen,  a  post  which  he  held,  with 
much  journalistic  work  thrown  in,  for  two  years,  when  he 
returned  to  the  capital.  After  this  he  travelled  widely 
throughout  Europe.  Early  in  1865  he  undertook  the 
management  of  the  Christiania  Theatre,  and  brought 
out  his  popular  comedy  of  The  Newly  Married  and  his 
romantic  tragedy  of  Mary  Stuart  in  Scotland. 

Although  Bjornson  has  introduced,  into  his  novels  and 
plays,  songs  of  extraordinary  beauty,  he  has  never  been 
a  very  copious  writer  of  verse.  Both  his  principal  con- 
tributions to  this  art  were  collected  in  the  year  1870, 
when  he  published  his  Poems  and  Songs  and  the  spirited 
romances  called  Arnljot  Gelline',  the  latter  volume 
contains  the  magnificent  ode  called  "  Bergliot,"  Bjornson's 
finest  contribution  to  lyrical  poetry.  It  is  odd  that 
between  1864  and  1874,  in  the  very  prime  of  his  life,  he 
should  have  displayed  a  slackening  of  the  intellectual 


1 88  VOLUNTARY  EXILE 

forces  very  remarkable  in  a  man  of  his  energy.  That 
he  was  mainly  occupied  with  politics  and  his  business 
of  theatrical  manager  during  this  time  may  well  account 
for  it,  but  it  is  likely  that  his  fiery  propaganda  as  a 
radical  agitator  would  at  the  time  override  the  poetic 
side  of  his  nature,  and  the  reality  of  his  calling  sap  his 
energy,  especially  when  he  supplemented  his  journalistic 
work  by  delivering  lectures  over  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  northern  countries.  He  possessed  to  a  surprising 
degree  the  arts  of  the  orator,  combined  with  a  magnificent 
physical  prestige. 

From  187#  to  1876  Bjornson  was  absent  from  Norway, 
and  in  the  peace  of  voluntary  exile  he  recovered  his 
imaginative  power.  His  new  departure  as  a  dramatic 
author  began  with  The  Editor  in  1874,  and  A 
Bankruptcy  in  1875,  both  social  dramas  of  an  extremely 
modern  and  realistic  cast,  the  second  of  which  has  con- 
tinued to  be  in  many  countries  the  piece  of  Bjornson's 
which  has  longest  kept  the  stage.  The  poet  was  now 
settled  at  the  estate  of  Aulestad  in  Gansdal,  in  a  house 
which  is  a  fine  example  of  old  Norwegian  domestic 
architecture,  and  which  has  been  his  home  since  1874. 

In  1877  he  published  another  novel,  Magnhild,  in 
which  his  ideas  on  social  questions  were  seen  to  be  in  a 
state  of  fermentation,  a  polemical  play  called  The  King, 
and  another  story  Captain  Mansana  followed ;  and  then, 
wishing  for  success  on  the  stage,  he  concentrated  his 
powers  on  the  drama  called  Leonardo,,  which  appeared 
in  1879.  This  was  an  appeal  for  religious  toleration, 
and  it  raised  a  violent  controversy  that  was  not  allayed 
by  a  satirical  play,  The  New  System,  which  was  brought 
out  a  few  weeks  later.  Although  these  plays  of 
Bjornson's  second  period  were  greatly  discussed,  none 
of  them  except  A  Bankruptcy  pleased  on  the  boards. 


JONAS  LIE  189 

He  felt  the  disappointment  so  keenly  that  he  preserved 
silence  as  a  dramatist  till  1883,  when  once  more  he 
produced  a  social  drama,  A  Gauntlet,  which  he  was 
unable  to  persuade  any  manager  to  stage.  To  many 
people,  however,  this  was  considered  one  of  the  most 
skilfully  composed  "  problem  plays  "  of  modern  times. 

A  play  that  achieved  great  success  was  one  entitled 
Over  JEvne  (Beyond  our  Powers),  which  deals  with  the 
abnormal  features  of  religious  excitement  with  extra- 
ordinary power.  Bjornson  now  again  turned  his  back 
on  the  stage,  and  published  in  1884  Flags  are  Flying  in 
Town  and  Port:  In  God's  Way,  which  is  one  of  the 
works  by  which  he  is  best  known  outside  his  own  country. 
A  number,  too,  of  short  stories  of  a  more  or  less  didactic 
character,  dealing  with  startling  points  of  emotional 
experience,  were  collected  in  1894 ;  those  producing  the 
greatest  sensation  were :  Dust,  Mother's  Hands,  and 
Absalom's  Hair.  At  the  opening  of  the  National  Theatre 
in  1899  Bjornson,  whose  popularity  in  Norway  is  un- 
bounded, received  an  ovation,  and  his  saga  drama  of 
Sigurd  the  Crusader  was  put  on  the  boards  with 
great  magnificence. 

Bjornson  is  a  republican  of  the  most  advanced  order, 
and  according  to  his  critics  his  views  are  pushed 
forward  too  crudely  for  artistic  effect  in  several  of  his 
later  works. 

Two  writers  of  novels  who  owe  much  to  the  example 
of  Ibsen  and  Bjornson  are  Jonas  Lie  and  Alexander 
Kielland.  Lie  was  late  in  developing  his  talent,  and 
lost  much  time  in  wavering  between  the  sentimental 
and  the  realistic  schools  of  treatment.  His  best  books 
have  been  stories  of  seafaring  life :  The  Man  with  the 
Second  Sight ;  The  Threemaster  "  Future  " ;  The  Pilot  and 
his  Wife;  and  Rutland.  In  Kielland  we  have  a  man 


ALEXANDER  KIELLAND 

who  has  more  talent  than  Lie,  his  progress  has  been 
more  rapid  and  steady,  and  he  has  a  clearer  idea  of 
what  he  wishes  to  do.  He  began  by  being  strongly 
influenced  by  Zola,  so  say  his  critics,  but  to  my  mind  no 
trace  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  his  Garman  og  Worse. 
He  is  one  of  the  youngest  of  distinguished  Norwegian 
writers. 


CHAPTER  XI 
TRONDHJEM  AND  ITS  KINGS 

TRONDHJEM  is  the  strength  and  heart  of  the 
country,  and  the  cradle  of  the  kingdom  of 
Norway.  Here,  on  Bratoren,  the  Norwegian  kings  were 
elected  and  crowned  so  far  back  as  the  hero  of  my 
favourite  saga,  Olaf  Tryggvason,  who  met  his  death  at 
the  battle  of  Svold  in  995.  Here  he  had  built  himself 
a  palace  and  a  church,  which  he  dedicated  to  St.  Clement, 
and  on  the  same  site  rose  Trondhjem  Cathedral. 

As  soon  as  the  Norman  Romanesque  architecture  in 
the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century  had  assumed  per- 
manent forms  in  Northern  France  and  England,  it 
appears  at  a  corresponding  stage  in  Norway.  The  stone 
churches  erected  in  Trondhjem  by  the  kings  Harald 
Hardraada  and  Olaf  Kyrre,  each  in  turn  sheltered  the 
shrine  of  St.  Olaf,  and  appear  especially  to  have  belonged 
to  this  first  Norman  group.  This  close  association  with 
England  and  Norman  France  is  evident  in  all  their 
mediaeval  architecture,  and  the  late  Norman  style 
represented  in  Trondhjem  and  the  Trondhjem  district 
is  without  doubt  the  richest. 

Here,  at  the  establishment  of  the  archbishopric  in  1152, 
stood  Olaf  the  PeacefuTs  Christ  Church.  Eystein  was 
the  archbishop,  who  was  especially  active  in  its  alteration, 
to  suit  the  requirements  of  a  metropolitan  church.  In 
1180,  for  political  reasons,  he  was  obliged  to  flee  to 

191 


192  TRONDHJEM  CATHEDRAL 

England.  Just  as  it  so  happened,  the  choir  ol 
Canterbury  Cathedral  was  being  rebuilt  by  William 
of  Sens  and  William  the  Englishman,  with  the  pointed 
arch,  and  an  exceedingly  beautiful  expression  of  form, 
which  was  the  introduction  of  the  Early  English  style. 
The  horse-shoe  forming  the  east  end  of  St.  Thomas's 
corona  in  Canterbury  Cathedral  is  probably  the  model 
from  which  the  octagon  in  Trondhjem  was  taken. 

With  fresh  impressions  from  England,  Eystein  deter- 
mined, on  his  return  to  his  own  country  in  1183,  to 
rebuild  the  choir  of  Christ  Church.  Only  the  lower 
part  of  it,  and  the  octagon  at  the  east  end  which  covered 
the  reliquary  of  the  saint,  with  its  aisle  and  chapels, 
show  System's  transition  style.  The  upper  parts  are 
fully  developed  early  Gothic,  and  the  arch  in  front  of  the 
octagon  has  traceries  characteristic  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  roof  of  the  transept  is  open,  and  the 
choir  covered  with  richly  ornamented  cross  vaulting. 
The  material  of  which  it  is  built  (soapstone)  gives  the 
walls  a  soft  green  shade  which  contrasts  beautifully  with 
the  white  marble  of  the  pillars.  The  extreme  readiness 
with  which  soapstone  lends  itself  to  the  carver's  art  is 
seen  everywhere. 

During  the  period  from  Sverre's  death  in  1202  until 
Haakon  iv.'s  absolute  sovereignty  in  1240,  artistic 
energies  appear  to  have  flagged.  But  from  1240  to  about 
1320  is  the  flourishing  period  of  Gothic  architecture 
in  Norway  as  in  England.  The  treatment  of  form 
became  lavish  and  lighter.  The  pointed  arch,  bell- 
shaped  capitals  with  round  abacus,  and  beautifully  and 
firmly  modelled  foliage,  and  deep  mouldings  appeared. 

The  cathedral  has  been  repeatedly  injured  by  fire, — 
even  as  late  as  1719  the  last  took  place.  Since  1869, 
when  the  east  part  was  re-roofed,  the  cathedral  has  been 


ADVICE  TO  VISITORS  193 

undergoing  a  thorough  and  judicious  restoration  super- 
intended by  Mr.  H.  Christie,  who  has  used  and  reproduced 
all  the  available  morsels  he  could  find  of  the  old  build- 
ing. The  royal  entrance  is  completed,  and  from  the 
square  tower  now  rises  a  finely  proportioned  steeple. 
Norway  is  justly  proud  of  its  church  as  a  national 
monument.  The  State,  the  Trondhjem  Savings  Bank, 
and  subscriptions  from  private  and  public  sources  enable 
the  work  required  to  be  carried  on. 

In  an  old  book  I  had  read  that  the  family  pews  were 
very  curious,  being  tiers  of  boxes  made  of  deal  wood,  like 
rabbit  hutches  piled  one  above  another;  but  these  are 
now  gone.  I  had  also  meant  to  ask  if  the  vault  still 
existed  containing  the  mummified  bodies  of  the  Norwegian 
kings,  which  about  fifty  years  ago  lay  heaped  one  upon 
another,  the  coffins  broken  and  the  bodies  visible.  But 
this  I  forgot  to  do,  which  is  perhaps  as  well,  as  I  should 
never  wish  again  to  be  haunted  as  I  had  once  been  by 
the  still  form  of  the  priestess  of  Amen-Ra  in  the 
British  Museum.  The  cool  soft  light  and  shade  of 
this  ancient  fane  was  delightful  after  the  glare  and 
dust  of  the  broad  white  streets.  I  never  felt  the  heat  as  I 
did  in  Trondhjem.  The  little  horses  were  even  crushed 
by  it,  and  went  along  with  steaming  sides  and  bowed 
heads. 

My  advice  to  the  visitor  to  Trondhjem  is — see  the 
town  first,  and  the  two  waterfalls,  which  make  a  very 
nice  afternoon's  drive.  The  upper  fall  repeats  in  a 
marvellous  manner  the  look  of  the  frozen  glacier  torrent 
of  Bojumsbrae  at  Mundal.  But  instead  of  snow,  in  this 
case  it  is  seething  white  water  that  comes  tumbling 
towards  you,  turning  into  clouds  of  spray  as  it  reaches  a 
more  level  bed.  The  lower  fall  is  a  cascade  enveloped  in 
clouds  of  mist,  as  it  rushes  between  banks  that  are 
'3 


194  BACK  TO  COMFORT 

covered  with  trees.  The  country  gives  one  a  very  good 
idea  of  its  fertility.  The  vegetation  is  rich,  and 
extends  all  round.  One  can  well  imagine  that  the  river 
rarely  freezes,  and  the  fjord  never.  Leave  the  cathedral 
to  the  end.  It  is  the  best  monument  in  the  north,  and 
of  the  greatest  interest.  If  you  see  over  this  first  you 
will  find  that  the  town  suffers  by  comparison.  Seen 
first,  the  wide  streets,  the  beautiful  fjord,  the  large 
warehouses  supported  on  piles,  and  the  quaint  un- 
adorned look  of  the  wooden  houses  are  interesting,  if  not 
picturesque. 

The  heat  was  so  intense  on  shore  that  it  was  most 
delightful  to  once  again  put  out  to  sea.  As  the  launch 
approached  the  ship  we  looked  at  each  other.  "  Do  you 
think  you  can  dance  a  step  ?  "  I  asked  my  girl  neighbour. 
We  were  all  limp  with  the  heat,  and  fanned  ourselves 
with  the  ends  of  various  parcels  we  had  collected  on 
shore.  "  I  don't  think  so ;  I  can't  walk  a  step,"  was  her 
answer. 

It  was  the  sight  of  the  flags  and  awning  that  had 
brought  forth  the  question.  It  was  evident  there  was 
to  be  a  dance  that  evening.  We  clustered  in  the 
gangway  reading  the  various  notices  at  the  head  of  the 
companion-way.  Why  does  one  always  do  it?  You 
may  have  been  half  an  hour  only  on  shore,  yet  on  your 
return  read  the  notices  you  must.  Here  we  saw  :  "  The 
games  committee  have  decided,  as  the  sea  is  so  calm,  to 
have  a  dance  on  deck  this  evening  at  8.30."  We  shook 
our  heads ;  but  there  in  the  saloon  was  tea,  all  ready 
for  us  in  the  little  brown  pot  that  cheers,  and  on  the 
long  crimson-covered  tables  stood  large  bunches  of 
flowers.  The  sunlight  twinkled  on  the  bright  brass  of 
the  ports,  and  the  passing  blue  water,  dancing  and  dimp- 
ling, reflected  itself  in  the  long  white  ceiling.  How 


TROXDHJEM    CATHEDRAL 


WE  ARE  OF  ONE  TONGUE  195 

nice  it  all  seemed  as  the  steward  fetched  a  fresh  pot 
of  tea. 

Here,  I  may  say,  I  have  read  of  the  hotel  porter  and 
his  many  virtues,  which  it  is  an  undoubted  fact  exist, 
but  nowhere  have  I  seen  the  steward  apprised  at  his  real 
worth.  The  praises  of  the  steward  have  yet  to  be  sung. 
O  steward,  the  poet  might  begin,  but  where  he  would 
end  I  cannot  say.  Up  to  date  I  have  found  nothing 
that  one  steward  or  another  could  not  do.  So  we  drank 
tea,  chatted,  dressed,  and  dined;  and  by  the  time  8.30 
came  round  there  was  nothing  we  could  not  do.  All 
exhausted,  the  band  finished  the  ball,  the  violin,  piano, 
flute,  and  clarionet  giving  forth  the  last  notes  of  "  A  life 
on  the  ocean  wave "  and  "  God  save  our  King "  as  the 
clock  struck  the  hour  of  twelve. 

"We  are  of  one  tongue,  though  one  of  the  two,  or 
in  some  respects  both,  are  now  much  changed."  (Prose 
Edda.) 

"  Then  ruled  over  England  King  Ethelred,  son  of  Edgar 
(979).  He  was  a  good  chief;  he  sat  this  winter  in 
London.  The  tongue  in  England,  as  well  as  in  Norway 
and  Denmark,  was  then  one.  But  it  changed  in  England 
when  William  the  Bastard  won  England,  Thenceforth 
the  tongue  of  Valland  (France)  was  used  in  England, 
for  he  (William)  was  born  there."  (Gunlaug  Ormstungas 
Saga,  c.  7.) 

If  we  read  the  sagas  we  can  trace  our  forefathers 
back  to  Odin  the  Asa  king,  and  learn  the  character  and 
life  of  the  Norse  ancestors  of  the  English-speaking 
peoples.  We  can  form  a  satisfactory  idea  of  their 
religious,  social,  political,  and  warlike  life.  We  can 
follow  them  from  their  birth  to  their  grave ;  see  the 
infant  exposed  to  die,  or  water  sprinkled ;  follow  the 
child  in  his  education,  in  his  sports ;  the  young  man  in 


196  THE  BARD  AS  AN  HISTORIAN 

his  practice  of  arms ;  the  maiden  in  her  domestic  duties 
and  embroidery;  the  adult  in  his  warlike  expeditions; 
hear  the  clash  of  swords,  and  the  song  of  the  scald 
inciting  the  warriors  to  greater  deeds  of  daring,  or  it 
may  be  recounting  afterwards  the  glorious  death  of  the 
hero.  We  listen  to  the  old  man  giving  his  advice  at  the 
Thing ;  we  learn  about  the  dress  of  these  ancestors,  their 
ornaments,  implements,  weapons ;  their  expressive  names 
and  complicated  relationships ;  their  dwellings  and  con- 
vivial halls,  with  their  primitive  or  magnificent  furniture ; 
their  temples,  sacrifices,  gods,  and  sacred  ceremonies ; 
their  personal  appearance,  even  to  the  hair,  eyes,  face, 
and  limbs.  Their  festivals,  betrothal  and  marriage  feasts 
are  open  to  us.  We  are  present  at  their  athletic  games, 
preparatory  to  the  stern  realities  of  the  life  of  that 
period,  where  honour  and  renown  were  won  on  the  battle- 
field; at  the  revel  and  drunken  bout;  behold  the  dead 
warrior  on  his  burning  ship,  or  on  the  pyre,  surrounded 
by  his  weapons,  horses,  slaves,  or  fallen  companions  who 
are  to  enter  with  him  into  Valhalla. 

The  first  metal  the  Norsemen  knew  was  copper,  which 
is  found  in  many  parts  of  Norway.  To  begin  with,  it 
was  used  unalloyed,  for  in  the  north  many  implements 
of  pure  copper  have  been  unearthed.  Gradually  it  was 
discovered  that  a  little  tin  mixed  with  the  copper  made 
it  much  harder.  And  as  bronze  was  far  superior  to 
stone,  it  no  doubt  superseded  it  in  many  cases.  But  the 
new  metal  must  have  been  very  costly,  as  tin  had  to  be 
imported  from  distant  countries.  Stone  axes  were  used 
therefore  far  on  in  the  age  of  bronze.  Gold  was  also 
worked  up  into  all  sorts  of  ornaments,  rings,  bracelets, 
and  brooches. 

Du  Chaillu,  who  years  ago  introduced  the  gorilla  to 
the  world,  wrote  his  book  to  prove  the  truth  of  the 


SCANDINAVIA  AND  ANCIENT  GREECE    197 

old  myth  that  the  Scandinavian  race  came  with  Odin 
originally  from  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  and  that  they 
brought  with  them  the  religion,  the  arts,  and  the  culture 
of  the  ancient  Greeks.  He  illustrated  it  with  many 
beautiful  pictures,  showing  what  a  likeness  the  Viking 
ships  bore  to  those  of  Argos  and  Corinth.  The  patterns 
wrought  by  the  old  Norsemen  were  shown  to  be  very 
like  early  classic  ornament,  the  similarity  of  the  rude 
figures  chiselled  in  the  rock  to  archaic  carving  in  Asia 
Minor,  and  the  likeness  of  the  runic  character  to  the 
Greek  alphabet,  were  all  worked  out  in  the  most  ingenious 
way. 

Isaac  Taylor,  the  Dean  of  York,  also  made  systematic 
researches  into  the  origin  of  the  alphabet.  When  he 
came  to  study  the  runes  he  suggested  quite  the  same 
interpretation,  and  said  that  they  were  derived  from 
Greek  sources.  On  the  other  hand,  Wimmer,  in  his  great 
work  Die  Runenschrift,  states  that  the  runes  were 
developed  from  the  Latin  letters  in  use  during  the 
second  century,  but  it  has  been  pointed  out  that  the 
Latin  was  written  from  left  to  right,  and  it  is  very 
unlikely  that  a  people  borrowing  such  an  alphabet  would 
use  it  to  write  from  right  to  left. 

Hempl  contends  that  the  runes  were  derived  about 
600  B.C.  from  the  western  Greek.  Taylor,  however, 
thought  they  came  from  a  Greek  colony  on  the  Black 
Sea,  and  it  is  well  known  that  the  early  Greek  was  often 
written,  as  we  should  say,  backwards.  Wherever  the  Norse 
Vikings  came  from,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  had 
much  in  common  with  the  warrior  kings  of  Homer's  verse. 
The  mythology  of  each  race  may  be  compared, — Zeus,  the 
god  of  the  sky,  with  his  irresistible  bolts  might  quite 
well  be  Thor  the  Thunderer  under  another  name.  His 
fight  with  the  Titans  has  probably  suggested  the  slaying 


1 98  HEATHEN  GODS 

of  the  Jotun  giants.  The  immortals,  though  nothing 
but  types  of  contemporary  human  nature,  have  much  in 
common.  Each  race  believed  in  three  sisters  of  fate,  the 
gods  of  fire,  and  the  under- world,  besides  demi-gods  and 
heroes  of  all  degrees. 

Animal  metamorphosis  of  the  most  wonderful  character 
occurs  in  both  mythologies.  The  Scandinavian  cosmogonic 
myth  gives  us  tales  of  Odin,  the  swift-goer,  the  ganger. 
He  could  deal  in  magic.  When  he  stole  Suttungs  Mead, 
which  answers  to  the  classic  nectar,  he  flew  away  in  the 
shape  of  an  eagle.  One  of  his  names  is  the  Raven  God. 
Asa  Loki  was  of  mixed  race,  half  god,  half  giant.  He 
changed  into  a  mare  and  became  the  mother  of  the  eight- 
legged  horse  of  Odin.  Heien  is  described  as  the  long- 
legged  one,  lord  of  the  ooze ;  his  name  suggests  that  of 
a  crane.  The  constant  enemies  of  the  gods,  the  giants, 
could  also  turn  themselves  into  animals  when  they  wished. 
Havindal  and  Loki  change  themselves  into  seals  to  fight 
their  battle.  Odin's  wife  was  Frigg,  from  whom  we  have 
the  week  day  Friday.  Their  son  was  Thor,  the  thunder 
god.  Thursday  was  his  festival.  He  had  a  hammer  and 
was  a  great  fighter. 

The  gods  of  Norway,  some  of  them  derived  from  the 
forces  of  nature,  and  the  rest  indifferently  represented 
as  divine,  human,  or  animal,  are,  after  all,  only  men,  and 
primitive  men  at  that.  The  story  of  the  pure  and  much- 
loved  god  Balder,  who  descended  into  Hell,  seems  to  have 
been  adopted  later;  suggested  perhaps  by  the  teaching 
of  Christianity.  The  race  of  the  gods  was  called 
Asgardr  Godheimr,  and  that  of  the  giants  Utgardr 
Jotunheimr,  and  the  bards  sang  Eddas  of  the  halls  of 
Odin,  where  the  souls  of  the  heroes  killed  in  war  lived  for 
ever. 

Everywhere   we   see   that    gold    was    in    the   greatest 


OLD  RECORDS  199 

abundance,  as  shown  by  the  treasures  in  the  museums 
of  the  north,  which  bear  witness  to  the  truthfulness 
of  the  records.  The  spade  has  developed  the  history  of 
Scandinavia  as  it  has  done  that  of  Assyria  and  Etruria ; 
but  in  addition  the  Northmen  had  the  Saga  and  Edda 
literature  to  perpetuate  their  deeds. 

Britain,  being  an  island,  could  only  be  settled  or  con- 
quered by  seafaring  tribes,  just  in  the  same  way  as  to-day 
distant  lands  can  only  be  conquered  by  nations  possessing 
ships.  Unfortunately  the  Roman  accounts  of  the  con- 
quest and  occupation  of  Britain,  of  its  population  and 
inhabitants,  are  very  meagre  and  unsatisfactory,  and  do 
not  help  us  much  to  ascertain  how  the  settlement  in 
Britain  by  the  people  of  the  north  began. 

We  find  from  Roman  records  that  the  so-called  Saxons 
had  founded  colonies,  or  had  settlements  in  Belgium  and 
Gaul ;  and  another  important  fact  we  know  from  the 
records  relating  to  Britain  is,  that  during  the  Roman 
occupation  of  the  island  the  Saxons  had  settlements  in 
the  country,  but  how  they  came  there  we  are  not 
told. 

In  the  Notitia  Dignitatum  utriusque  imperil,  which  was 
a  sort  of  catalogue  or  "  army  list "  compiled  towards 
the  latter  end  of  the  fourth  century,  occurs  the  expres- 
sion, "  Comes  litoris  Saxonici  per  Britannias " — Count 
of  the  Saxon  shore  in  Britain.  Within  this  litus 
Saxonicum  the  following  places  are  mentioned — 
Othona,  said  to  be  "close  by  Hastings11;  Dubris,  said 
to  be  Dover ;  Rutupise,  Richborough ;  Branodumum, 
Brancaster;  Regulbium,  Reculvers;  Lemannis,  West 
Hythe ;  Garianno,  Yarmouth ;  Anderida,  Pevensey ; 
Portus  Adurni,  Shoreham  or  Brighton.  This  shows 
that  the  so-called  Saxons  were  settled  in  Britain  before 
the  Notitia  was  drawn  up.  and  at  a  date  very  much 


200  THE  PEACE  OF  FRODI 

earlier  than  has  been  assigned  by  some  modern  his- 
torians. 

The  Skjoldunga  Saga,  which  is  often  mentioned  in 
other  sagas,  and  which  contains  a  record  down  to  the 
early  Kings  of  Denmark,  is  unfortunately  lost ;  but  from 
some  fragments  we  see  that  several  Danish  and  Swedish 
Kings  claimed  to  have  possessions  in  England  long  before 
the  supposed  coming  of  the  Danes. 

"  Skjold  (Shield)  was  the  son  of  Odin,  from  whom  the 
Skjoldungar  are  descended.  He  dwelt  in  and  ruled  over 
the  lands  now  called  Danmork,  which  were  then  called 
Gotland.  Skjold  had  a  son,  Fridleif,  who  ruled  the  lands 
after  him.  Fridleif  s  son  Frddi  got  the  kingship  after 
his  father,  about  the  time  when  the  Emperor  Augustus 
made  peace  all  over  the  world.  Then  Christ  was  born. 
As  Frddi  was  the  most  powerful  of  all  kings  in  the 
northern  lands,  all  who  spoke  the  Danish  tongue 
attributed  the  peace  to  him,  and  the  Northmen  called 
it  the  peace  of  Frddi.  Now  Frddi  the  Valiant  had  two 
sons,  Ing-jald  and  Halfdan.  From  the  first  was  descended 
the  great  Harald  Hilditonn,  who  was  defeated  by  his  kins- 
man Sigurd  Hring  at  the  Bra  valla  battle.  From  the  second 
was  descended  Harald  Fairhair,  the  ancestor  of  the  Dukes 
of  Normandy,  and  so  indirectly  of  Queen  Victoria.  "  All 
who  are  truly  wise  in  events  know  that  the  Tyrkjar  and 
Asia-men  settled  in  the  northern  lands.  Then  began 
the  tongue  which  has  since  spread  over  all  lands.  The 
leader  of  these  people  was  called  Odin,  and  to  him  men 
trace  their  families."  (Staurlang's  Saga.) 

The  rather  mythical  genealogy  of  Ynglingatal  com- 
posed for  the  uncle  of  Harald  Fairhair  traces  the  family 
through  thirty  generations  up  to  Odin,  and,  being  pro- 
bably composed  a  little  after  900,  it  would  make  Odin 
live  about  100  before  Christ. 


TRONDHJEM  AND  ITS  KINGS 


201 


Thus  the  Skjoldunga  Branch  began  with — 


Odin  Asa  King. 

Skjold. 

Fridleif. 

Fridfrode. 

Fridleif. 

Havar  the  Hand-strong. 


Frodi. 

Vermund  the  Wise. 
Olaf  the  Humble. 
Dan  the  Proud. 
Frodi  thii  Peaceful. 


Fridleif. 

Frodi  the  Valiant. 


Ingjal. 

Hroerek  Ringeng- 
gard. 

Frodi. 

Halfdan. 

Hroerek  Ring- 
thrower. 

Harald  Hilditonn. 


Halfdan. 

Helgi. 

Hrolf  Kraki. 

Hroar. 

Valdar  the  Mild. 

Harald  the  Old. 

Halfdan  the  Valiant 

Ivar  Vidfadmi. 

Aud,  the 

Deep-minded 


}      /I.  Hrcerek  Ring-thrower. 
*•  \2.  Randbard. 


Randver. 
Sigurd  Hring. 
Ragnar  Lodbrok. 
Sigurd  Snake-eye. 


Aslang. 
Sigurd  Hart. 
Ragnhild. 
Harald  Fairhair. 


Harald  Fairhair  , 
Eirik  Bloodaxe  , 
Haakon  the  Good 
Harald  Graafeld  (Grey 

skin) 

Olaf  Tryggvason  . 
Hakon  Jarl  the  Great 
Eirik  Jarl     . 
St.  Olaf       . 


Reigned  A.D. 
860-930 

930-934 
934-960 


960-965 

965-995 

995-1000 

1000-1015 

1015-1028 


Reigned  A.D. 

Knut  the  Great  .  .  1028-1035 
Magnus  the  Good  .  1035-1047 
Harald  Hardradi .  .  1047-1066 
Olaf  "the  Peaceful" 

Kyrre  .  .  .  1066-1093 
Magnus  Barefoot .  .  1093-1 103 

(Three  sons — Eystein, 

Olaf,  Sigurd.) 

Jarsalafari  .  .  .  1103-1130 
Civil  War— Harald  Gilli, 

Magnus     the    Blind, 

and  others  .  .  1130-1162 
Magnus  Erlingsson  .  1162-1184 
Civil  Wars  .  .  .  1184-1217 
Haakon  Haakonsson  .  1217-1263 
Magnus  Lagaboter  .  1263-1280 
Eric  Magnusson  .  .  1280-1299 
Haakon  Magnusson  .  1299-1319 

(No  male  issue) 


Transition  to  the  Union :   Magnus  Smek,  by  Ingeborg  Haakon's 
daughter  and  the  Swedish  Duke  Eric      .... 


1319 


202  HARALD'S  VOW 

Harald  Haarfagre,  or  Fair-Haired  Harald,  also  called 
Lufa,  or  the  Thick-Haired,  was  born  about  the  year  850, 
and  was  the  son  of  Halfdan  the  Black,  King  of  Upland, 
an  inconsiderable  district  in  Norway.  By  the  mother's 
side  he  was  descended  from  Ragnar  Ladbrok  and  the 
renowned  Sigurd  the  Serpent-killer.  When  he  was  ten 
years  of  age  his  father  died,  and  he  became  King  of 
the  little  district  of  Upland.  For  some  years  his  affairs 
were  managed  by  Guthorm,  his  mother's  brother,  but 
when  he  was  about  eighteen  he  took  everything  into 
his  own  hands.  Harald  was  tall  and  athletic, — of  an 
exceedingly  handsome  countenance,  bold  and  daring, 
and  of  a  mind  of  great  ambition.  At  that  time  there 
was  no  universal  King  in  Norway,  almost  every  district 
being  governed  by  its  own  petty  sovereign  or  head- 
man, under  whom  the  people  enjoyed  their  othul,  or 
right  of  the  soil,  merely  paying  a  slight  tribute  to  the 
ruler. 

This  state  of  things,  however,  was  not  destined  to 
continue.  No  sooner  had  Harald  become  his  own  master 
than  he  made  a  vow  to  Odin  that  he  would  neither  cut 
nor  comb  his  hair  till  he  had  made  himself  sole  King  of 
the  country,  and  absolute  lord  of  the  lives  and  property 
of  the  inhabitants. 

Harald  Haarfagre  had  first  to  secure  the  kingdom  he 
had  inherited  from  his  father,  and  thereupon  crossed  the 
Dovre  Mountains  to  Trondhjem,  where  he  took  up  his 
abode  in  this  well-populated  community.  All  this  he 
accomplished  in  a  few  years  by  dauntless  bravery,  force 
of  character,  and  terrible  severity.  In  some  instances 
he  experienced  a  desperate  resistance,  but  he  never  lost 
a  battle.  His  hardest  conflict  was  the  sea  fight  at  Hafrs- 
fjord,  in  which  he  encountered  several  confederated  kings. 
In  this  he  was  hard  pressed,  and  would  probably  have 


THE  NORMAN  MARCH  203 

been  worsted  but  for  the  fall  of  Haklangr,  or  Longchin, 
the  principal  leader  of  the  opposite  party,  a  man  of 
great  courage  and  immense  strength.  This  battle  was 
decisive,  for  after  it  Harald  was  sole  master  of  Norway, 
from  the  inhabitants  of  which  he  took  their  cherished 
othul,  reducing  them  to  the  condition  of  bondsmen  or 
servants.  Harald  was  satisfied  with  being  King  of 
Norway,  but  the  effects  of  what  he  did  were  by  no  means 
confined  to  that  country. 

Perhaps  the  actions  of  few  or  none  have  had  so  much 
influence  on  the  affairs  of  Europe  as  those  of  Harald 
Haarfagre.  He  was  the  principal  cause  and  originator  of 
what  may  be  called  the  Norman  March,  Terra  North- 
mannorum.  Occupied  in  the  early  part  of  the  tenth  century 
by  the  Northmen,  whose  name  was  on  Gaelic  soil  gradu- 
ally changed  to  Norman  Rollo  or  Rolf,  settled  at  Rouen, 
embraced  Christianity,  and  became  the  Carlovingian  King's 
man.  The  Viking  leader  received  a  grant  from  Charles 
the  Simple  of  all  the  land  between  Dive  and  the  River 
Epte.  He  was  called  "  Princeps  Northmannorum,"  or 
sometimes  "  Dux  piratarum." 

A  nobility  gradually  sprang  up  consisting  chiefly,  it 
would  seem,  of  those  who  could  claim  any  kind  of  kindred, 
legitimate  or  illegitimate,  with  the  ducal  house.  Some 
of  the  greatest  Norman  houses  sprang  from  kinsfolk  of 
wives  or  mistresses  of  the  dukes,  who  were  themselves 
of  very  low  degree.  The  Cotentin  with  the  Channel 
Islands  seems  to  have  been  added  in  the  time  of  the 
second  duke,  William  Longsword,  about  927.  It  appears 
that  though  the  East  Normans  were  Christians  and  spoke 
French,  the  coast  folk  were  mostly  heathen  and  Scandi- 
navian. 

Richard  the  Fearless  was  the  son  of  William  by  a 
Breton  mother,  who  stood  in  the  doubtful  relationship 


204  ROLF  GANGER 

called  a  Danish  marriage.  He  reigned  fifty  years,  then 
there  came  a  second,  and  a  third  Richard,  and  then  a 
Robert  who  was  the  father  of  our  William  the  Con- 
queror. 

The  Viking  Rolf  Ganger,  the  founder  of  the  Norman 
settlement,  was  one  of  that  magnificent  race  of  men  of 
the  old  North  whom  popular  histories  include  in  the 
common  name  of  Danes.  They  replunged  into  barbarism 
the  nations  over  which  they  swept ;  but  from  their  barbar- 
ism they  reproduced  the  noblest  elements  of  civilisa- 
tion, and  were  wonderfully  pliable  and  malleable  in  their 
admixtures  with  the  peoples  they  overran.  Frankes,  the 
Archbishop,  baptized  Rolf  Ganger,  and  this  is  the  reason 
why  the  Normans  lost  their  old  names  in  their  conversion 
to  Christianity. 

Thus  Charles  the  Simple  insists  that  Rolf  Ganger  shall 
change  his  creed  and  his  name,  and  Rolf  or  Rou  is 
christened  Robert,  and  within  a  little  more  than  a  century 
afterwards  the  descendants  of  these  terrible  heathens, 
who  had  spared  neither  priest  nor  altar,  were  the  most 
redoubtable  defenders  of  the  Christian  Church, — their 
old  language  forgotten  save  by  a  few  in  the  town  of 
Bayeux,  their  ancestral  names  save  amongst  a  few  of  the 
noblest  changed  into  French.  And  all  the  while  in  my 
head  runs  "  The  Ballad  of  Rou  "— 

"  From   Blois   to   Senlis,   wave  by  wave,  roll'd  on   the   Norman 

flood, 
And  Frank  on  Frank  went  drifting  down  the  weltering  tide  of 

blood. 

There  was  not  left  in  all  the  land  a  castle  wall  to  fire, 
And  not  a  wife  but  wailed  a  lord,  a  child  but  mourned  a  sire. 
To  Charles   the    King,  the  mitred  monks,  the  mailed   Barons 

flew, 
While,  shaking  earth,  behind  them  strode  the  thunder  march  of 

Rou. 


"THE  BALLAD  OF  ROU"  205 

'O   King,'  then    cried  these  Barons  bold,  'in  vain    are    mace 

and  mail, 

We  fall  before  the  Norman  axe,  as  corn  before  the  hail.' 
'And    vainly,'  cried    the    pious  monks,  'by    Mary's    shrine  we 

kneel, 

For  prayers,  like  arrows,  glance  aside  against  the  Norman  steel.' 
The    Barons    groaned,    the    shavelings    wept,    while    near    and 

nearer  drew, 
As    death-birds    round  their  scented    feast,  the  raven    flags  of 

Rou.  .  .  . 

Psalm-chanting   came   the    shaven   monks,  within    the   camp   of 

dread ; 

Amidst  his  warriors,  Norman  Rou  stood  taller  by  the  head ; 
Out    spoke    the    Frank  Archbishop   then,   a  priest  devout  and 

sage  : 
'  When  peace  and  plenty  wait  thy  word,  what  need  of  war  and 

rage? 

Why  waste  a  land  as  fair  as  aught  beneath  the  arch  of  blue, 
Which    might    be  thine    to    sow    and    reap?'    thus    saith    the 

King  to  Rou. 

'  I'll    give    thee   all   the  ocean  coast,  from    Michael  Mount  to 

Eure, 

And  Gille,  my  fairest  child,  as  bride,  to  bind  thee  fast  and  sure ; 
If  thou  but  kneel  to  Christ  our   God,  and  sheathe  thy  paynim 

sword, 
And  hold  thy  land,  the   Church's   son,  a  fief  from  Charles  thy 

lord.' 

The  Norman  on  his  warriors  looked — to  counsel  they  withdrew  ; 
The  saints  took  pity  on  the  Franks,  and  moved  the  soul  of  Rou. 

So  back  he  strode  and  thus  he  spoke  to  that  Archbishop  meek  : 
'  I  take  the  land  thy  King  bestows,  from  Eure  to  Michael-peak, 
I  take  the  maid,  foul  or  fair,  a  bargain  with  the  coast ; 
And  for  thy  creed,  a   sea-king's   gods   are  those  that  give  the 

most, — 

So  hie  thee  back  and  tell  thy  chief  to  make  his  proffer  true, 
And  he  shall  find  a  docile  son,  and  ye  a  saint  in  Rou. 


206  THE  NORMAN  FLOOD 

So  o'er  the  border  stream  of  Epte  came  Rou  the  Norman,  where, 
Begirt  with  Barons,  sat  the  King,  enthroned  at  green  St.  Clair ; 
He  placed  his  hand  in  Charles'  hand, — loud  shouted  all  the 

throng, 

But  tears  were  in  King  Charles'  eyes, — the  grip  of  Rou  was  strong. 
'Now  kiss  the  foot,'  the  Bishop  said, — 'that  homage  still  is 

due'; 
Then  dark  the  frown  and  stern  the  smile  of  that  grim  convert, 

Rou. 

He  takes  the  foot,  as  if  the  foot  to  slavish  lips  to  bring  : 

The   Normans   scowl,  he   tilts   the   throne,  and  backwards  falls 

the  King. 
Loud  laugh  the  joyous   Norman   men — pale    stare    the   Franks 

aghast ; 
And   Rou   lifts  up  his  head  as  from   the  wind  springs  up   the 

mast : 

'  I  said  I  would  adore  a  God,  but  not  a  mortal  too, 
The  foot  that  fled  before  a  foe  let  cowards  kiss  ! '  said  Rou." 

The  people  of  Norway  in  general  submitted  to  the 
sway  of  Harald,  and  several  of  the  petty  Kings  were 
glad  to  become  his  earls  and  land-warders,  but  there 
were  proud,  indomitable  spirits  both  amongst  the 
peasants  and  the  chieftains  who  disdained  to  be  en- 
thralled by  him.  Many  repaired  to  Iceland,  which  had 
been  discovered  by  one  Gardr  at  an  early  period  of  his 
reign,  and  colonised  it ;  others  betook  themselves  to  the 
Faroe  and  the  Shetland  and  Orkney  Isles,  where  they 
formed  piratical  establishments;  others  to  the  Sotherics 
and  Isle  of  Man,  of  all  which  islands  they  became  masters 
— thousands  went  to  Ireland,  where  they  founded  Dublin. 
Immense  numbers,  too,  to  that  part  of  England  which  is 
north  of  the  Humber,  which  they  entirely  took  possession 
of.  The  elite,  however,  of  the  discontented  Norsemen 
repaired  to  France,  a  part  of  which  they  conquered  and 
occupied,  and  named  after  themselves  Normandy,  or  the 


HARALD  HAARFAGRE  207 

land  of  the  Normans,  where,  from  the  relations  which 
they  formed  with  the  women  of  the  country,  a  race 
sprang  up  which  in  course  of  time  subdued  England, 
Naples,  and  Sicily,  giving  kings  of  the  Norman  race  to 
all  three. 

Harald's  life  after  he  had  become  monarch  was 
tolerably  tranquil.  Any  insurrections  against  him  he 
speedily  put  down  by  means  of  his  hirdlid, — an  armed 
force  which  he  always  kept  about  him,  consisting  of 
about  four  hundred  of  the  tallest  and  strongest  fellows 
whom  he  could  induce  to  serve  him.  To  these  he  was 
very  liberal  in  clothes,  bracelets,  armour,  and  coin ;  but 
it  was  said  of  him,  during  his  life  and  long  after  his 
death,  that  though  he  was  free  of  gold  he  was  rather 
stingy  of  meat.  He  had  several  places  of  residence,  but 
his  favourite  one  was  Rogaland  in  Utstein. 

He  married  Ragnhild,  daughter  of  the  King  of 
Jutland.  By  this  Ragnhild  he  had  Eirik,  surnamed 
Blood-axe,  from  his  desperate  deeds  in  war,  to  whom 
he  bequeathed  the  sceptre  of  Norway  at  his  death.  He 
lived  and  died  a  believer  in  the  religion  of  Odin,  Thor, 
and  Frey — a  religion  of  blood  and  horror — the  votaries 
of  which  held  two  great  festivals  in  the  year,  one  at 
Yule  or  Midwinter,  and  the  other  at  Haust  or  Harvest, 
at  which  they  drank  ale  and  ate  horse  flesh  in  honour 
of  the  gods.  He  was  very  fond  of  poetry,  and  generally 
had  several  skalds  about  him,  who  sang  his  praises  in 
alliterative  verse.  The  achievement  of  Harald  Haarfaore 

o 

made  itself  apparent  in  the  growing  consciousness  in  the 
mind  of  the  nation  that  it  constituted  one  people. 

He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,  after  having  been 
King  seventy-three  years,  and  absolute  sovereign  of 
Norway  about  fifty-eight.  He  was  a  contemporary  of 
Alfred  the  Great,  his  son  Edward,  and  his  grandson 


208         HAAKON  THE  GOOD  CHRISTIAN 

Athelstane,  to  the  last  of  whom  he  sent  his  son  Haakon 
to  be  fostered.  This  child,  born  to  him  in  his  old  age, 
and  who  eventually  became  King  of  Norway,  was  the 
first  Christian  ruler  of  that  country. 

Erik  Blodoks  (Bloody-axe)  reigned  but  a  short  time, 
having  to  yield  the  throne  to  his  youngest  brother 
Haakon,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  England  by  King 
Athelstane,  and  was  supported  by  the  Tronders. 

"Haakon  was  a  good  Christian  when  he  came  to 
Norway ;  but  as  all  the  land  was  heathen,  and  there  was 
much  sacrificing  and  many  chiefs,  and  he  much  needed 
the  help  and  friendship  of  the  people,  he  decided  to 
conceal  his  Christianity,  and  kept  Sundays,  and  fasting 
on  Fridays,  and  the  greatest  festivals.  He  made  it  a 
law  that  the  Yule  should  begin  at  the  same  time  as 
that  of  the  Christians,  and  that  every  man  should  have 
a  certain  measure  of  ale  or  pay  a  fine,  and  keep  the 
days  holy  while  Yule  lasted.  It  formerly  began  on 
the  mid-winter  night,  and  it  was  kept  for  three  nights. 
He  wanted  to  make  the  people  Christians  when  he  got 
established  in  the  land  and  had  fully  subjected  it  to 
himself.  He  sent  to  England  for  a  bishop  and  other 
priests.  When  they  came  to  Norway,  Haakon  made 
known  that  he  would  try  to  Christianise  the  land." 
(Haakon  the  Good's  Saga :  Fornmanna  Sb'gur,  i.) 

Haakon's  reign  was  marked  by  a  series  of  meritorious 
reforms.  The  old  Thing  Association  of  the  Tronders 
was  extended  by  the  union  with  it  of  several  shires ; 
and  the  common  Thing  place  was  now  removed  to 
Frosta.  The  Orething,  however,  continued  to  exist  as 
well,  and  it  came  to  have  a  special  importance  as  the 
place  where  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Norwegian 
Kings  was  taken.  The  defence  of  the  country  was  also 
now  organised  by  the  imposition  of  a  levy  which  obliged 


OLAF  TRYGGVASON  209 

the  yeomen  in  the  coast  districts  to  equip  and  man 
warships.  Haakon,  who  was  honoured  by  his  people 
with  the  surname  of  The  Good,  fell  in  961  while  de- 
fending his  country  against  the  sons  of  Erik  Blodoks. 
After  the  brothers  had  governed  cruelly  for  nine  years 
the  eldest  of  them,  Harald  Graafeld  (Greyskin),  was 
assassinated  in  Denmark,  whereupon  the  others  were 
obliged  to  yield  to  Earl  Haakon,  chief  of  the  Tronders. 
Baptized  under  compulsion,  he  remained  a  fanatical 
heathen,  and  by  cruelty  alienated  the  affections  of  his 
people.  They  rose  against  him,  and  he  was  murdered, 
while  fleeing,  by  a  thrall  who  accompanied  him. 

Just  at  this  time  came  Olaf  Tryggvason,  a  descendant 
of  Harald  Haarfagre,  who  was  immediately  chosen  King 
by  the  Tronders.  Olaf  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
figures  in  Norwegian  history;  after  a  romantic  boyhood 
he  had  distinguished  himself  as  leader  of  a  Viking  army 
that  had  ravaged  England.  Immediately  before  his 
coming  to  Norway  he  had  embraced  Christianity,  and 
now,  after  becoming  King  of  the  country,  he  began  to 
enforce  the  adoption  of  the  Christian  faith ;  but  this 
was  done  in  many  cases  by  fear  and  cruelty,  as  Olaf 
Tryggvason's  Saga  shows. 

"  Olaf  Tryggvason  and  Bishop  Sigurd  both  went  with 
many  warships  to  Godey  (God  isle),  where  Rand  the 
Strong,  a  man  of  sacrifices,  lived.  Olaf  attacked  the 
loft  where  Rand  slept,  and  broke  it  and  went  in. 
Rand  was  taken  and  tied,  and  of  the  men  there,  some 
were  killed  and  others  taken.  Rand  was  led  before 
the  King,  who  bade  him  let  himself  be  baptized. 
'Then,'  said  the  King,  'I  will  not  take  thy  property, 
but  be  thy  friend,  if  thou  wilt  do  this.'  Rand  cried 
out  against  this,  and  said  he  never  would  believe  in 
Christ,  and  blasphemed  much.  The  King  grew  angry, 
14 


210  HALFRED  THE  SCALD 

and  said  Rand  should  die  the  most  hideous  death.  He 
had  him  taken  out  and  lashed  to  a  beam,  a  stick  was 
placed  between  his  teeth  to  force  open  his  mouth  in 
which  a  snake  was  placed ;  but  it  would  not  go  in, 
and  recoiled,  because  he  blew  against  it.  Then  the 
King  had  a  stalk  of  angelica  put  in  Rand's  mouth, 
with  the  snake  in  it;  he  had  a  red-hot  bar  put  on  the 
outside  of  it.  The  snake  recoiled  into  the  mouth  of 
Rand,  and  down  his  throat,  and  ate  its  way  out  of 
his  side,  and  Rand  died.  The  King  took  thence  a 
large  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  and  other  loose 
property,  weapons,  and  many  costly  things.  He  had 
slain  or  tortured  all  those  of  Rand's  men  who  would 
not  be  baptized"  (c.  87).  The  Halfred  Saga  also 
shows  how  hard  it  was  for  some  men  to  give  up  the 
old  faith.  Halfred,  who  had  been  baptized,  asked  King 
Olaf  Tryggvason  to  hear  a  song,  which  at  first  the 
King  declined  to  do,  as  too  heathen  for  him,  but  re- 
lenting, Halfred  sang — 

"  Of  yore  I  worshipped  well 
Him  the  bold-minded, 
Lord  of  Hlidskjalf  (Odin), 
The  luck  of  men  changes." 

The  King  said :  "  This  is  a  very  bad  stanza ;  thou  must 
improve  it.11 

"Every  kindred  has  made  songs 
To  win  the  love  of  Odin  ; 
I  remember  the  songs 
Of  the  men  of  our  time. 

But  because  I  love  Christ 
I  must  hate  against  my  will 
The  first  husband  of  Frigg  (Odin), 
For  his  power  I  liked  well." 


HIS  SONG  OF  THE  HEATHEN  GODS      211 

The  King  replied :  "  The  gods  dwell  much  in  thy 
mind,  and  I  do  not  like  it." 

"Enricher  of  men,  I  forsake 
The  god-name  of  the  raven-worshipper, 
Who  in  heathendom  performed 
A  trick  praised  by  the  people." 

"This  makes  it  no  better;  make  a  stanza  to  mend 
this." 

"Fry  and  Freyja  and  the  strong  Thor 
Ought  to  be  angry  with  me ; 
I  forsake  the  offspring  of  Njord, 
The  angry  (gods)  may  be  friends  with  Grimmir  (Odin). 

I  will  call  on  Christ,  for  all  love 
The  only  Father  and  God ; 
The  anger  of  the  son  I  dislike : 
He  is  the  famous  ruler  of  earth." 

"This  is  a  good  song,  and  better  than  none;  sing 
more." 

"  It  is  the  custom  with  the  Sygna  King 
To  forbid  sacrifices  ; 
We  must  shun  most  of 
The  time-honoured  dooms  of  the  Norner ; 

All  men  throw 

The  kindred  of  Odin  to  the  winds  ; 
Now  I  am  forced  to  pray  to  Christ, 
And  leave  the  offspring  of  Njord." 

The  conversion  to  Christianity  did  not  always  have 
a  softening  influence.  Thus  Olaf  had  in  the  course  of 
a  few  years,  in  true  Viking  fashion,  brought  the  popula- 
tion of  the  entire  coast,  from  Viken  up  to  the  borders 
of  Finmarken,  under  the  dominion  of  "  the  white  Christ." 
Olaf  was  attacked  by  an  army  of  superior  force  that 
had  been  gathered  against  him  by  Earl  Haakou's  son, 


212  SAINT  OLAF? 

Erik,  the  Swedish  King  Olaf  Skotkonung,  and  the 
Danish  King  Svend  Tjugeskaeg.  His  men  were  nearly 
all  killed,  and  he  himself,  mortally  wounded,  sought  a 
grave  beneath  the  waves.  Norway  was  then  divided 
between  the  Danish  and  Swedish  Kings  and  Earl  Erik; 
but  the  Kings  gave  up  their  shares  to  Erik  and  his 
brother  Svein,  who  governed  them  as  their  vassals. 

When  the  Danish  King  Knut  the  Great  went  to 
invade  England  he  called  upon  Earl  Erik  to  help  him. 
The  Earl  obeyed,  and  never  saw  Norway  again.  In  the 
spring  of  1015  Olaf  Haraldsson,  a  descendant  of  Harald 
Haarfagre,  returned  to  Norway  from  a  Viking  expedi- 
tion. He  determined  to  carry  on  the  life-work  of  his 
kinsman,  Olaf  Tryggvason,  and  here  in  Trondhjem 
homage  was  done  to  him  as  King  of  Norway. 

Olaf  brought  the  little  Upland  Kings  under  the 
Norwegian  dominion,  and  sought  in  every  way  to  place 
the  long-inherited  power  of  the  great  chieftains  under 
that  of  the  King.  But  by  his  hard-handed  policy  Olaf 
Haraldsson  soon  aroused  a  strong  opposition  against 
himself.  The  rebels  sought  the  aid  of  the  Danish  King 
Knut  the  Great,  who  came  with  an  army  to  Norway  in 
1028  and  received  homage  at  Orething.  Olaf  fled  to 
Russia,  and  when,  some  time  after,  he  attempted  to  win 
back  his  kingdom  he  was  slain  by  the  chieftains  at 
Stiklestad  in  Vardalen  in  July  1030.  Not  long  after  he 
was  regarded  as  a  holy  man.  This  saint  was  a  most 
ruthless  persecutor  of  his  forefathers1  faith,  and  a  most 
unqualified  practical  assertor  of  his  heathen  privilege. 
And  he  extended  his  domestic  affections  beyond  the  severe 
pale  which  should  have  confined  them  to  a  single  wife. 
He  died  as  he  had  wished  to  die,  with  the  soothing  con- 
viction that  the  Valkyrs  would  bear  him  to  Valhalla.  One 
wonders  if  Saint  Olaf  was  not  really  heathen  after  alL 


MAGNUS  AND  HARALD  HAARDRADA  213 

It  is  not  without  reason  that  the  century  which  now 
followed,  after  Olaf's  son  Magnus  had  ascended  the 
throne  in  1035,  has  been  called  the  period  of  Norway's 
greatness.  The  kingdom  was  now,  by  the  unity  brought 
about  between  the  royal  power  and  the  aristocracy, 
enabled  to  extend  its  influence  to  the  world  around. 
Magnus  became  also  by  inheritance  King  of  Denmark, 
but  after  his  death  that  kingdom  passed  into  the  hands 
of  Svend  Estridsson,  although  Magnus's  successor  Harald 
Haardrada,  brother  to  Olaf  the  Holy,  laid  claim  to  it 
by  force  of  arms. 

Snorro  Sturleson  gives  us  a  noble  and  spirited  reply 
of  the  Confessor  to  Magnus,  who  as  heir  of  Knut  claimed 
the  English  crown.  It  concludes  thus :  "  Now,  he 
(Hardicanute)  died,  and  then  it  was  the  resolution  of 
all  the  people  of  the  country  to  take  me  for  the  King 
here  in  England.  So  long  as  I  had  no  kingly  title  I 
served  my  superiors  in  all  respects  like  those  who  had 
no  claims  by  birth  to  land  or  kingdom.  Now,  however, 
I  have  received  the  kingly  title,  and  am  consecrated 
King ;  I  have  established  my  royal  dignity  and  authority, 
as  my  father  before  me ;  and  while  I  live  I  will  not 
renounce  my  title.  If  King  Magnus  comes  here  with 
an  army,  I  will  gather  no  army  against  him,  but  he 
shall  only  get  the  opportunity  of  taking  England 
when  he  has  taken  my  life.  Tell  him  these  words  of 
mine." 

True  hero  of  the  North,  true  darling  of  war  and  of 
song  was  Harald  Haardrada !  At  the  terrible  battle  of 
Stiklestad  at  which  his  brother  St.  Olaf  was  killed,  he 
was  but  fifteen,  but  his  body  was  covered  with  the  wounds 
of  a  veteran.  He  lay  concealed  in  the  house  of  a  Bonder 
peasant,  remote  in  deep  forests,  till  his  wounds  were 
healed.  Chanting  by  the  way,  he  went  on  into  Sweden, 


214  THE  VAERINGERS 

thence  into  Russia,  and,  after  wild  adventures  in  the 
East,  joined,  with  the  bold  troop  he  had  collected 
round  him,  that  famous  bodyguard  of  the  Greek 
emperors  called  the  Vaeringers,  of  which  he  became  the 
chief. 

Jealousies  between  himself  and  the  Greek  General 
of  the  imperial  forces  ended  in  Harald's  retirement  with 
his  Vaeringers  into  the  Saracen  land  of  Africa.  Eighty 
castles  stormed  and  taken,  vast  plunder  in  gold  and 
jewels,  and  nobler  meed  in  the  song  of  the  scald  and 
the  praise  of  the  brave  attested  the  prowess  of  the 
great  Scandinavian.  New  laurels  awaited  him  in  Sicily. 
Rough  foretype  of  the  coming  crusader,  he  passed  on 
to  Jerusalem.  He  bathed  in  Jordan,  and  knelt  at  the 
Holy  Cross.  Returning  to  Constantinople,  the  desire 
for  his  northern  home  seized  him.  There  he  heard  that 
Magnus,  the  illegitimate  son  of  St.  Olaf,  had  become  King 
of  Norway.  He  sailed  home  to  the  North,  and  after 
such  feats  as  became  a  sea  king  of  old  received  half  of 
Norway  from  Magnus,  on  whose  death  the  whole  of  the 
kingdom  passed  to  his  sway. 

This  was  the  King  to  whom  came  Tostig  the  Earl, 
with  the  offer  of  England's  crown.  This  was  the  man 
to  whom  our  English  Harald  offered  seven  feet  of  land 
for  a  grave,  "or  as  much  more  as  his  stature  exceeding 
that  of  other  men  might  require."  Harald  Haardrada 
died  at  Stamford  Bridge.  In  his  death  died  the  last 
hope  of  the  Vikings,  and  the  bones  of  the  invaders 
whitened  the  field  of  battle  for  many  years  afterwards. 

The  efforts  of  his  grandson  Magnus,  nicknamed 
Barefoot,  were  directed  towards  the  amalgamation  of 
the  Norwegian  settlements  on  the  islands  oft'  the  coast 
of  Scotland  and  others  into  one  kingdom.  Magnus 
fell  during  a  descent  upon  Ireland.  A  few  years  after- 


PEACEFUL  KINGS  OLAF  AND  EYSTEIN    215 

wards  his  son  Sigurd  set  off  on  a  crusade  to  the  Holy 
Land,  where  in  1110  he  took  the  strong  town  of 
Sidon. 

It  was  during  the  reigns  of  the  peaceful  kings  Olaf 
Kyrre  and  Eystein  Magnusson  that  Bergen  was  founded 
as  a  centre  for  trade  with  England. 

After  Sigurd's  death  in  1130  came  a  period  of  a  hundred 
and  ten  years,  that  was  occupied  with  fights  amongst 
the  descendants  of  Magnus  Barefoot's  sons,  fostered  and 
encouraged  at  one  time  by  the  aristocracy,  at  another 
by  the  clergy,  more  especially  Archbishop  Eystein,  who 
had  so  much  to  do  in  the  building  of  the  cathedral :  it 
was  a  question  of  Church  against  Crown. 

In  1164  Magnus  Erlingsson,  who  was  then  a  child,  had 
been  crowned  by  the  Archbishop,  after  his  father,  the 
chieftain  Erling  Skakke,  had  promised  on  his  behalf 
that  the  kingdom  should  be  subject  to  St.  Olaf,  and 
that  after  the  King's  death  the  crown  should  be  given 
as  an  offering  to  that  saint.  At  the  same  time  a  change 
was  made  in  the  public  law  of  the  kingdom,  which  would 
have  given  the  Bishop  the  power  to  nominate  the  future 
King.  After  Ey stein's  death  his  successor  continued 
the  struggle,  but  King  Sverre  compelled  him  to  leave 
the  country.  The  King  in  return  was  put  under  the 
Pope's  ban.  During  the  struggle  King  Sverre  died,  and 
it  was  his  grandson,  Haakon  Haakonsson,  who  became 
King  in  1217,  and  crushed  the  faction  raised  by  the 
clergy. 

Then  again  Norway  throve  and  flourished  for  another 
eighty  years,  during  Haakon's  reign  and  that  of  his  son 
Magnus  Lagaboter  (the  Law  Mender)  and  his  sons 
Eirik  and  Haakon.  To  the  latter  the  French  King 
Louis  ix.  offered  the  supreme  command  in  a  crusade. 
Iceland  and  Greenland  also  became  subject  to  his 


216  TROUBLOUS  TIMES 

dominion.  He  died  during  the  winter  in  the  Orkneys, 
when  the  Scottish  King  attacked  the  Hebrides  in 
1263. 

Haakon  v.  succeeded  him  in  1299,  and  at  his  death 
the  male  descendants  of  Harald  Harfagre  became 
extinct.  The  daughter  of  Haakon  Magnusson  married  a 
Swedish  duke,  Erik,  and  her  son  Magnus  Smek  was  elected 
King  of  Sweden  as  well  as  Norway  in  1319.  Denmark 
was  joined  to  the  two  kingdoms  in  1395  by  the  election 
of  Erik. 

Troublous  times  then  came  to  the  North.  The  Ger- 
mans practically  ruled  the  commerce  of  the  country, 
and  in  other  matters  also  had  the  game  in  their 
own  hands.  Fresh  misfortunes  in  the  shape  of  plague 
and  death  overtook  them  in  1349,  1360,  and  1371. 
From  1397  to  1450  Norway  played  a  subordinate 
part,  while  yet  continuing  to  be  an  independent 
kingdom. 

King  Christian  in.,  after  the  coup  d'etat  in  1536, 
promised  much,  but  did  little.  One  thing,  however, 
which  he  did  remains  good  to  this  day.  This  was 
the  Norwegian  naval  defence,  which  was  organised  by 
royal  command  and  kept  up.  In  1628,  supported  by  the 
old  regulations  regarding  the  military  defence  of  the 
country,  there  was  further  established  a  national  standing 
army. 

Under  Christian  iv.  Norway  was  once  more  aroused  to 
an  independent  existence  by  the  rapidly  growing  prosperity 
of  trade ;  but  in  1658,  by  the  cession  of  the  district  of 
Trondhjem  owing  to  the  unhappy  wars  waged  with  Sweden, 
when  several  of  the  best  districts  had  to  be  relinquished, 
her  condition  was  almost  total  dissolution. 

The  Norwegian  laws  of  Christian  v.  improved  the 
situation.  Two  wars — the  Gyldenlove  War,  1675-1679, 


BERNADOTTE  217 

and  the  great  Northern  War,  1709-1720— in  which  the 
young  and  intrepid  naval  hero,  Peter  Wessel,  who  was 
raised  to  the  nobility  under  the  name  of  Tordenskjold, 
won  great  renown,  shed  a  lustre  over  army  and 
fleet. 

After  1720  its  prosperity  grew  continually.  New  towns 
sprang  up  and  the  population  increased.  An  armed 
neutrality  was  concluded  with  Sweden  and  Russia,  and 
under  its  protection  trade  and  navigation  attained  a 
hitherto  unknown  level.  Then  came  a  brief  war  with 
England,  and  the  battle  of  Copenhagen  was  fought.  The 
British  captured  the  Dano-Norwegian  fleet  and  plundered 
the  dockyards,  and  it  was  English  action  which  drove  the 
Crown  Prince  into  the  arms  of  Napoleon.  No  grudge 
seems  to  be  felt  about  it  now.  The  Norwegian  greets 
one  as  a  friend,  and  his  handshake  is  as  cordial  as  though 
we  had  never  been  foes. 

In  1814  the  Powers  compelled  Denmark  to  cede  Norway 
to  Sweden.  At  that  time  the  Norwegian  Diet  elected 
as  King  of  Norway  the  Danish  Prince  who  was  acting 
as  Viceroy,  and  voted  a  Constitution.  Bernadotte,  Crown 
Prince  of  Sweden,  invaded  Norway,  and  war  thus  began ; 
but  as  the  Great  Powers  were  all  against  Norway,  the 
Danish  Prince  resigned  the  throne,  and  the  Diet  accepted 
the  arrangement  made  by  the  Powers,  but  induced  the 
King  of  Sweden  to  accept  its  Constitution.  The  two 
countries  from  that  time  each  had  its  own  Constitution 
and  Government,  but  a  common  sovereign  had  control 
in  matters  of  war  and  diplomacy. 

Bernadotte,  when  he  succeeded  to  the  throne,  found 
himself  in  constant  conflict  with  the  Norwegian  Diet, 
a  conflict  in  which  the  Diet  in  the  long  run  was  successful. 

He  dissolved  the  Storthing  or  Diet,  which  was  held  by 
the  Norwegians  to  be  an  unconstitutional  act,  and  opposed 


218  THE  STORTHING 

the  abolition  of  the  nobility,  which  the  Storthing  voted 
three  times  at  intervals  of  three  years,  the  method  laid 
down  by  the  Constitution  for  legislation,  in  despite  of  the 
royal  veto. 

In  1869  the  session  of  the  Storthing  was  made  annual, 
and  in  1872,  on  the  accession  of  King  Oscar  n.,  a  constitu- 
tional conflict  began  which  was  in  due  time  to  become 
national  rather  than  constitutional.  The  substance  of 
the  dispute  was  over  the  responsibility  of  the  Ministers 
to  the  Storthing.  The  Bill  by  which  they  were  admitted 
to  its  sessions  was  passed  the  three  necessary  times,  but 
in  each  case  vetoed  by  the  King.  The  Storthing  then 
impeached  the  Ministers  for  advising  the  King  to  refuse 
his  sanction  to  an  amendment  of  the  Constitution  which 
had  duly  become  law.  The  Ministers  were  found  guilty 
and  dismissed,  and  at  length  the  King  invited  the  leader 
of  the  majority  in  the  Storthing  to  form  a  Ministry. 
This  was  in  1884.  It  established  in  Norway  the  constitu- 
tional principle  and  practice  which  prevailed  in  Great 
Britain. 

Seven  years  later  began  the  nationalist  movement 
for  the  creation  of  a  Norwegian  Ministry  of  Foreign 
Affairs  and  the  appointment  of  Norwegian  Consuls.  How 
the  dispute  on  these  matters  developed  until  it  led  to  the 
separation  of  the  two  countries  and  the  independence 
of  Norway  is  fresh  in  every  one's  recollection. 

After  the  agreement  for  the  separation  of  the  two 
countries  had  been  confirmed  the  proposal  to  offer  the 
Norwegian  Crown  to  Prince  Charles  of  Denmark  was 
submitted  to  a  popular  vote,  with  the  result  that  on 
Friday,  17th  November,  259,563  votes  were  recorded  in 
favour  of  the  proposal,  and  only  69,264  against  it.  So 
on  Saturday  the  Storthing  met,  and  by  a  unanimous  vote 
elected  Prince  Charles. 


KING  HAAKON  VII  219 

King  Haakon  is  the  constitutional  King  of  the  most 
democratic  country  in  Europe.  Its  population  of  two 
and  a  quarter  millions  is  about  the  same  number  as  that 
of  the  kingdom  of  Greece,  and  is  mainly  composed  of 
peasants  owning  their  own  land — merchants,  traders, 
workmen,  and  sailors.  Though  the  country  is  not  rich 
it  is  prosperous,  its  annual  expenditure  being  only  about 
five  millions  sterling. 

The  Norwegians  have  in  proportion  to  population  the 
most  highly  developed  mercantile  marine  in  the  world, 
and  in  actual  tonnage  the  fourth,  it  being  surpassed  only 
by  those  of  Great  Britain,  the  United  States,  and  Germany. 
The  people  are  well  educated,  having  compulsory  ele- 
mentary education  to  the  age  of  fourteen.  Their  country's 
history  is  that  of  enterprise  and  manliness  from  the  time 
of  the  earliest  records.  To  be  the  freely  chosen  king  of 
such  a  people  is  an  honour  of  which  any  prince  in  the 
world  might  be  proud. 

Doctor  Nansen  has  been  appointed  the  first  Nor- 
wegian Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James's.  Doctoi 
Nansen  has  played  a  prominent  part  in  the  affairs  ol 
Norway  since  he  returned  from  his  trip  "  Farthest  North." 
His  views  on  recent  events  are  indicated  in  a  letter  which 
he  wrote  last  April :  "  Norway's  course  is  clear  ahead ; 
we  value  an  intimate  and  sincere  friendship,  and  a  strong 
union  with  the  Swedish  people,  but  we  value  evten  more 
highly  our  independence  and  our  sovereignty  as  it  is 
assured  us  by  our  Constitution  and  by  the  Treaty  of  Union." 

In  1814  a  fundamental  law  was  passed  in  which  military 
service  was  declared  to  be  universal  and  personal.  After 
the  union  with  Sweden,  however,  a  great  reduction  was 
made  in  the  army,  and  most  of  the  fortifications  were 
vacated.  The  present  complete  organisation  only  goes 
back  to  the  Conscription  Act  of  1885. 


220  MILITARY  SERVICE 

Every  able-bodied  Norwegian,  except  he  be  a  member 
of  the  clergy  or  a  pilot,  is  liable  to  service,  and  may  be 
employed  in  any  position  for  which  he  is  best  suited. 
Seamen  and  fishermen  serve  in  the  Navy,  artisans  as  far 
as  possible  in  their  own  departments,  students  in  medicine 
serve  in  field  hospitals,  and  the  countrymen  used  to 
horses  go  into  the  cavalry.  Men  are  enrolled  when  they 
are  twenty-two,  and  they  are  on  the  army  list  for  sixteen 
years.  First  there  is  six  years  in  the  line,  the  first  year 
of  which  the  infantry  recruit  does  forty-eight  days1  drill 
and  twenty -four  days1  battalion  exercise.  In  the  following 
years  this  is  continued,  so  that  the  total  train  ing  lasts 
nearly  five  months  spread  over  four  years.  The  cavalry 
man  serves  nearly  seven  months  and  the  engineer  six, 
spread  over  five  years.  Then  comes  the  second  term  of 
six  years  in  the  landwern,  with  much  fewer  drills;  and 
last,  there  is  a  term  of  four  years  in  the  landstorm.  These 
three  classes  are  called  opbuds;  they  are  all  of  equal 
strength,  having  the  same  number  of  battalions,  squadrons, 
etc.  According  to  the  fundamental  law,  the  line  only 
could  be  employed  outside  the  country.  The  training 
is  not  earned  on  in  the  barrack  square,  but  in  camps  of 
exercise  spread  over  the  different  districts  in  summer 
time.  The  annual  number  of  recruits  to  the  army  is 
about  11,000,  and  Norway  is  able  to  raise  by  mobilisation  : 
the  line' army  about  26,000  men  for  service  abroad  ;  the 
militia  army  of  more  than  25,000 ;  and  last,  the  landstorm 
25,000 ;  coast  artillery,  4500.  So  that  altogether  there 
are  about  80,000  men  ready  to  defend  their  own 
country. 

In  April  1906  the  Norwegian  Government  decided 
to  bring  in  a  Bill  for  the  organisation  of  a  new  army,  and 
an  estimate  amounting  to  12,541,000  kroner  (£696,720) 
for  this  purpose.  The  proposed  legislation  provided  that 


THE  NEW  MILITIA  221 

the  troops  of  the  line  should  be  composed  of  twelve 
annual  levies  of  militia  and  of  six  annual  levies,  as  compared 
with  the  present  four,  of  all  other  men  from  eighteen  to 
fifty  years  of  age  who  are  capable  of  bearing  arms.  In 
the  new  militia  the  old  regimental  division  will  be  reintro- 
duced,  each  regiment  having  three  battalions.  The  troops 
of  the  line  will  consist  of  fourteen  regiments,  and  the 
cavalry  will  be  composed  of  fifteen  squadrons.  The 
mountain  artillery  will  be  transferred  to  Tromso.  The 
length  of  service  will  be  unchanged.  New  gendarmerie 
and  scouting  corps  will  also  be  established  for  service  in 
peace  time.  Mr.  Dahl,  the  son  of  the  painter  at  Balholm, 
was  doing  his  course  in  the  army  when  I  met  him, 
and  I  am  indebted  to  his  kindness  for  the  details  here 
given. 


CHAPTER   XII 

TORGHATTEN  —  MRS   PILOT—  NARVIK—  LOFOTENS 
—  TROMSO  AND  LYNGEN 


lunch  bugle  had  sounded,  all  were  in  their 
JL  places,  when  the  word  went  round  that  Torghatten 
was  nearly  abeam.  One  by  one  we  left  our  seats,  with 
a  little  deprecating  glance  at  the  steward,  who,  we  well 
knew,  would  stand  patiently  till  our  return,  and  he,  poor 
fellow,  at  the  same  time  realising  that  he  would  sit  down 
late  to  his  own  dinner.  Passengers  are  selfish  people  in 
the  main,  but  after  all  there  is  only  one  Torghatten,  with 
an  opening  407  feet  above  the  sea,  535  feet  long,  and 
about  40  broad,  the  daylight  visible  clear  through  the 
body  of  the  mountain.  Pontoppidan,  who  evidently 
wore  magnifying  glasses  when  measuring  sea  serpents, 
must  have  had  the  same  pair  on  when  gazing  at 
Torghatten,  as  he  states  that  it  is  6000  feet  long  and 
300  feet  high  —  a  slight  difference  from  Baedeker's  com- 
putation. 

We  waited  what  seemed  a  long  time  before  the  first 
little  streak  of  daylight  became  visible  through  the  great 
hat-shaped  rock.  "  There  !  there  !  do  you  see,  close  to 
that  light  patch.11  "  No,  not  there  —  you  see  that  black 
streak,  well,  just  by  the  black  streak  comes  a  lighter 
patch,  well  there."  "  Yes,  I  see  !  "  Slowly  the  aperture 
widened  till  it  looked  as  if  a  great  bullet  had  passed 
straight  through,  leaving  a  round  hole  of  daylight. 


HESTMANN  AND  THE  SISTERS  223 

Beyond  this  the  scenery  of  the  coast  is  magnificent,  great 
chains  of  mountains  rise  with  craggy  peaks  and  snowy  sides. 

The  Seven  Sisters  still  stand  in  a  row  petrified  with 
horror  at  the  fate  of  their  cousin  the  fair  Jutula,  her 
brother,  and  her  lover  the  mounted  Hestmann.  He 
has  his  martial  cloak  thrown  round  him,  and  now  marks 
the  crossing  of  the  Arctic  circle.  I  did  not  know  the 
story  when  we  passed,  but  since  then  have  come  across 
a  sailor's  yarn,  which  may  be  believed  or  not  as  the 
reader  likes  best.  "One  day  a  young  'jutul,1  or  devil- 
kin,  living  in  the  neighbourhood  took  a  fancy  to  visit 
his  Seven  Sisters,  unluckily  for  them  all ;  a  distant  cousin, 
whose  home  was  on  an  island  farther  south,  was  staying 
with  them  at  the  time. 

"  As  is  usual  on  such  occasions,  the  two  young  people 
fell  desperately  in  love  with  each  other,  and,  as  is  also 
usual,  vowed  eternal  fidelity.  Business  of  importance 
called  the  giant  home.  His  fair  cousin  returned  also  to 
attend  on  a  sick  brother.  With  tears  and  vows  and 
many  protestations  they  mutually  tore  themselves 
asunder,  and  the  Seven  Sisters  found  the  poor  lady 
swooning  on  the  shore  from  which  her  lover  had  departed. 
She  went  home  to  her  sick  brother  and  nursed  him 
tenderly,  and,  finding  him  in  gentle  mood,  made  him  her 
confidant,  and  he  agreed  that  she  should  marry  the  jutul 
of  her  choice.  On  his  recovery  his  perverse  nature  re- 
gained its  wonted  sway.  He  determined  that  his  sister 
should  wed  a  dissolute  companion  of  his,  whom  she 
hated. 

"  Now  you  must  know  that  every  jutul  family  had  some 
special  power  or  malignant  charm  by  which  to  battle 
with  their  enemies.  The  speciality  of  this  family  was 
petrifaction.  The  cruel  brother  exercised  that  power 
011  the  lover's  messengers,  and  turned  them  all  into  rocks. 


224  THE  BOLT  THAT  SPED 

Now,  the  devilkin  was  not  aware  of  this  brother's 
existence,  the  fair  giantess  having  concealed  the  fact  on 
account  of  his  extravagant  habits.  Believing  thus  that 
his  plighted  one  was  the  last  of  her  race,  and  that  she 
alone  possessed  the  power  of  petrifaction,  he  concluded 
she  had  put  the  stony  insult  on  him.  Mounting  his 
steed,  and  shouldering  his  crossbow,  he  shot  a  heavy 
bolt  at  the  dwelling  of  the  jutuless.  His  special  power 
was  an  unerring  aim.  Her  brother  was  bathing  at  the 
time,  and  it  being  a  very  wet  morning,  he  wore  his  sou'- 
wester, others  say  his  market  hat.  The  bolt  sped  through 
seventy  miles  of  air,  passed  through  the  hat  of  the 
treacherous  jutul,  and,  carrying  away  a  portion  of  his 
skull,  fell  at  his  fair  one's  feet.  She  knew  the  bolt, 
and  that  none  but  he  could  have  shot  it.  She  saw  her 
brother  sinking  beneath  the  waves,  never  to  rise  again. 
All  that  remained  of  him  for  her  loving  eyes  to  gaze 
upon  was  his  perforated  hat  floating  on  the  waters. 
She  thought  of  the  perfidy  of  the  lover  she  believed  so 
true,  and  her  heart  was  broken ;  but  as  she  died  she 
exercised  her  power  of  petrifaction.  Her  lover  and 
the  horse  he  rode,  herself,  and  the  floating  hat  she  turned 
to  stone." 

Those  who  doubt  the  foregoing  should  go  to  the  spot. 
There  is  the  mounted  Hestmann,  there  is  the  perforated 
sou'- wester,  and  beyond  it  the  drooping  fair  one,  all  turned 
to  stone.  There  are  the  messengers,  a  long  procession  of 
low  rocky  islands,  reaching  from  the  Hestmann  to  his  love, 
and  there  are  the  Seven  Sisters  in  stony  stillness  looking 
on. 

As  we  steam  along  the  coast  the  great  inland  chain 
of  snowy  mountains  comes  in  view.  The  valleys,  descend- 
ing, can  be  seen,  with  a  telescope,  filled  with  glaciers, 
from  the  Svartisen  above.  This  is  an  enormous  expanse 


THE  PILOTS  WIFE  225 

of  snow  and  ice,  resembling  the  Justedal  and  the  Folge- 
fond.  Svartisen  covers  a  plateau  about  4000  feet  in 
height. 

Then  on  we  went,  by  a  smiling  island,  where  Captain 
Thompson,  who  is  nothing  if  not  kind,  slowed,  as  a 
homestead  came  in  view.  A  big  white  farmhouse,  with 
outbuildings,  stood  in  some  acres  of  the  greenest  of  grass, 
with  a  little  pier  jutting  into  the  water,  alongside  of 
which  lay  a  boat.  From  afar,  as  we  threaded  our  way  up 
the  fjord,  the  pilot  had  had  his  glasses  turned  on  this  spot, 
that  was  home  to  him.  The  steamer's  great  throttle  sent 
out  a  mighty  hoot.  No  one  appeared.  The  next  hoot 
brought  a  boy  to  the  pier,  who  let  go  the  boat's  painter ; 
and  the  third  hoot  brought  Madam  herself,  hastily 
buttoning  her  bodice.  She  was  a  stout  lady,  fair-haired 
and  comely.  Our  captain  shook  his  head  as  he  remarked, 
"I  won't  wait  for  her  another  time.  A  year  ago  now, 
when  I  first  slowed,  she  was  waiting  in  mid-stream.  The 
next,  she  was  just  coming  down  the  jetty  ;  and  this  time 
I  have  had  to  wait.  I  won't  wait  again,  I  can  tell 
her." 

The  meeting  did  not  seem  to  move  the  pilot  much;  I  felt 
as  though  we  should  not  look.  The  moment  the  boat 
was  alongside,  the  pilot  had  climbed  down  the  Jacob's 
ladder,  and  with  a  spring  was  on  board,  stooping  to  kiss 
the  small  child.  She  pulled  her  face  away.  He  desisted 
at  once,  took  his  wife's  hand  and  said  a  few  words  to 
her,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  face.  One  hand-shake, 
and  he  was  again  on  the  ladder.  The  small  boy  pulled 
off,  and  poor  Madam,  shading  her  eyes  with  one  hand, 
waved  the  other.  This  was  all,  after  six  months' 
separation ! 

Lofoten,  the  group  of  islands  we  were  now  approach- 
ing, lie  somewhat  to  the  north  of  the  polar  circle,  and 
'5 


226  LOFOTEN  ISLANDS 

consist  of  eruptive  rocks.  Only  a  few  years  ago  it  was 
found  that  the  islands  were  not  only  granite  and  syenite, 
as  was  believed,  but  that  they  were  formed  to  a  great 
extent  of  gabbro  and  kindred  rocks. 

Towards  midnight  the  sky  that  had  been  gradually 
getting  yellow  seemed  to  glow.  Shade  after  shade,  each 
more  intense  than  the  other,  followed,  till  the  whole 
heaven  was  a  vivid  flame  colour  reddening  as  it  neared 
the  peaks.  The  effect  was  glorious.  Out  of  a  blue 
mist  that  hung  along  the  sea  rose  the  grandest  cluster 
of  rugged  granite.  The  mountains  sprang  up  like  a 
range  of  phantoms  3000  to  4000  feet  high,  breaking 
at  their  summits  into  countless  multitudes  of  jagged 
points.  They  looked  like  some  great  shark's  jaw,  of 
a  bluish  tint  at  first,  which  gradually  darkened,  till 
the  whole  was  a  black  silhouette  against  the  glowing 
sky. 

Passing  through  these  Lofoten  Islands,  rising  out 
of  the  sea  on  one  side,  and  the  mighty  mountain 
ranges  of  the  mainland  on  the  other,  was  like  steaming 
right  into  the  grandest  fairy  tales  of  the  people, 
more  especially  when  the  glow  of  the  midnight  sun 
suffused  with  infinite  splendour  those  parts  of  the 
mountain  on  which  it  rested,  leaving  the  other  parts 
in  an  inexpressible  chill. 

This  is  one  picturesque  side  of  Lofoten,  the  back- 
ground to  the  mighty  fishing  industry  that  costs 
more  lives  every  year  than  if  the  country  was  in  the 
midst  of  war.  To  us,  the  suffering  and  privations,  the 
roughness  of  the  living,  and  the  cold  of  the  water, 
would  seem  hardships  indeed;  but  the  Norseman  has 
won  his  adjective  of  "hardy."  From  near  and  far  he 
drifts  to  the  fishing  grounds,  where,  when  all  is  said 
and  done,  he  makes  but  a  poor  living,  earning  but 


HARDY  NORSEMEN  227 

Is.  6d.  to  Is.  9d.  a  day.  For  that  he  must  catch 
some  four  hundred  cod  to  make  what  is  considered  a 
good  day's  fishing ;  this  for  a  net  and  boat  with  two 
hands.  A  line  fisherman  considers  he  has  done  well 
if  his  catch  amounts  to  two  hundred.  All  along  the 
shore  are  the  boat  stations,  havens  with  the  necessary 
buildings  and  stores.  Lodgings  are  scarce  for  the  men, 
who  during  the  first  few  months  of  the  year  number 
some  40,000.  Think  what  it  must  be  to  sleep  standing 
back  to  back,  like  herring  in  a  barrel,  in  a  close,  stifling 
atmosphere.  Sometimes  not  even  able  to  get  that 
amount  of  accommodation,  the  poor  fellows  have  to 
walk  back  to  their  open  boats,  their  clothes  frozen 
stiff.  Covering  themselves  with  what  odds  and  ends 
they  can  find,  they  sleep,  as  only  an  overtired  man 
can.  Small  wonder  that  many  a  man  and  lad  catches 
his  death  of  cold. 

It  seems  to  me  that,  like  the  lemming,  these  fishermen 
cannot  keep  away  from  the  call  of  the  sea.  Some  prosaic 
people  say  that  it  is  the  hope  of  great  and  immediate 
profit  that  carries  them  through  all  discomforts  and 
dangers,  and  tempts  generation  after  generation  to 
follow  on  the  same  path.  I  would  rather  be  let  to 
think  that  it  is  the  same  call  from  the  sea  that  their 
Viking  forefathers  obeyed  for  centuries. 

Not  so  very  long  ago  they  used  to  sail  all  the  way 
from  their  land-girt  fjords  to  the  great  fishing  ground. 
Now  boat  and  crew  go  by  steamer,  and  once  on  board 
the  merry,  exciting  life  begins.  They  meet  friends  and 
comrades  at  the  different  stations,  where  old  stories  are 
told  and  re-told,  and  old  times  revived  by  lively  briny 
conversation.  Card-playing,  betting  and  drinking  take 
place,  and  many  dances  with  the  girls,  who  on  Sundays 
come  long  distances  for  a  swing  round.  These  join 


228  TORFISK  AND  KLIPFISK 

the  lasses  who  are  employed  gutting  the  fish.  One 
excellent  rule  obtains  amongst  these  men.  The  best 
man  on  board  is  chosen  as  skipper,  never  mind  what 
his  status  may  be  on  shore,  whether  master  or  servant. 
Even  should  the  owner  of  the  boat  and  gear  accompany 
it  as  one  of  the  crew,  he,  like  everyone  else,  is  bound 
to  obey  the  skipper,  who  steers  the  boat  and  superintends 
the  fishing. 

Up  to  a  few  years  ago,  the  fishing  was  principally 
carried  on  in  open  boats,  but  every  year  now  sees 
decked  boats  and  smacks  used  in  the  deep-sea  fishing. 
In  the  newer  boats  the  men  can  live  on  board,  and  find 
shelter  in  the  cabins.  Acres  and  acres  of  rock  are 
covered  with  the  split  fish  lying  out  to  dry  in  the  sun, 
with  here  and  there  a  stack  ready  for  shipment.  A 
queer  harvest  it  looks,  that  might  easily  be  mistaken 
for  hayricks  at  a  distance.  Near  to  these  stacks,  and 
drying  acres,  are  huge  boilers  where  the  cod-livers 
stew  most  odoriferously.  The  sight  of  the  day  is  to 
see  the  boats  push  off  to  sea  and  return  in  the  evening. 
Assembled  in  their  hundreds,  the  men  are  as  busy  as 
bees  with  their  fishing  tackle  and  gear  awaiting  the 
signal.  As  soon  as  this  is  given  they  all  push  out  to 
sea  together,  for  the  various  fishing  grounds. 

The  preparation  of  salting  cod  was  introduced  by 
English  merchants  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and 
gradually  outstripped  the  ancient  product  Torfisk.  The 
Klipfisk  is  split,  salted,  and  dried  on  the  ground. 
Torfisk  are  gutted  and  hung  in  pairs  by  the  tail,  and 
dried  on  wooden  scaffolds  called  "  hjell,"  seen  continually 
by  the  sides  of  the  fjords.  According  to  ancient  rules, 
no  fish  was  to  be  hung  on  the  hurdles  before  the  12th 
of  April,  or  taken  down  before  the  12th  of  June. 

Just   to   give  an   idea   of  the  quantity  of  dried   fish 


WORLD'S  CONSUMPTION  OF  DRIED  FISH     229 

exported,    I    quote    one   year's    total  from    the    official 
publication : — 

KLIPFISK 

To  Spain 28,450  tons 

„    Germany 8,720    „ 

„    Great  Britain  and  Ireland        .  5,620    „ 

»    Italy 1,940    „ 

„    Portugal  and  Madeira      .        .  2,450    „ 


TORFISK 

To  Sweden 2,320  tons 

Italy  and  Austria      .        .        .  4,950    „ 

Holland 3»5°o    „ 

Germany 3,280    „ 

Great  Britain  and  Ireland         .  2,730    „ 

Russia  and  Finland  .        .        .  850    „ 

Belgium 170,, 


The  weather,  I  think  it  must  have  been,  that  had 
entered  into  the  soul,  and  accounted  for  the  sense  of 
rest  and  beauty  that  enveloped  the  world  this  perfect 
morning.  The  air  was  gentle  and  warm,  the  sun  was 
shining  on  the  beautiful  white  decks  and  the  ship  just 
gliding  through  the  glass-like  water.  There  were  no 
more  dark  fjords  with  wall-like  mountains.  A  broad 
stretch  of  water  lay  shimmering  before  us;  the  moun- 
tains receded  in  the  distance,  their  hollows,  crannies, 
and  snows  covered  by  a  pale  blue  haze ;  while  the  green 
undulating  land  was  more  like  our  own  rolling  downs. 
Add  to  this  a  pair  of  blue-tinted  spectacles  through 
which  Nature  was  looking  this  fair  morning.  Blue  sky, 
blue  haze,  blue  mountains,  and  blue  water,  and  if  you 
can,  imagine  the  perfect  day. 

We  were  not  the  only  people  to  feel  it :  a  sense 
of  rest  had  come  over  the  whole  ship.  Cook's  agent 
had  no  excursion.  The  Sund  was  shallow,  and  till  the 


230  VAAGS  FJORD 

tide  was  high  there  was  not  sufficient  water  for  this 
great  ship,  so  she  glided  on,  barely  rippling  the 
fjord. 

It  was  with  much  the  same  feeling  as  that  of  the  boys 
who  on  a  very  hot  day  lay  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  and 
ate  apples,  whilst  the  youngest  was  made  to  stand 
in  the  sun  by  way  of  contrast,  so  that  his  heat  and 
weariness  should  make  the  others  feel  cooler  and  more 
rested,  that  we  on  the  ship,  under  the  awnings,  watched 
Sambo,  on  one  end  of  a  long  plank,  on  his  back,  washing 
the  bottom  of  one  of  the  boats.  Another  black  gentle- 
man was  at  the  other  end,  painting  as  if  for  a  wager, 
swinging  his  legs  in  time  to  a  little  chant  that  he  sang. 
Squatted  on  the  deck  was  a  Lascar,  quietly  chipping 
the  rust  off  a  ring  bolt,  that  had  not  escaped  the  first 
officer's  vigilant  eye,  and  from  the  open  windows  of  the 
music-room  came  voices  in  unison.  Right  forward  a 
knot  of  people  sat  in  comfortable  attitudes  on  their 
deck  chairs,  some  with  Baedeker's  Guide  open  on  their 
knee,  telling  off  each  rock,  bay  and  mountain,  as  we 
passed.  Others  worked  at  some  little  flippant  piece 
of  sewing,  just  to  say  they  were  not  idle;  and  others 
still  lay  well  back,  with  cap  pulled  over  their  faces, 
going  back  to  everyday  life,  in  the  prosaic  land  of 
Nod. 

So  we  steamed  through  Vaags  Fjord,  into  Solberg 
Fjord,  enjoying  every  inch  of  the  way;  twisting  and 
turning  through  the  narrow  Gi  Sund  at  the  head  of 
the  Solberg.  Once  again  the  mountains  rose  as  we 
passed  the  island  of  Senjen  on  our  left,  and  crossed 
the  Malangen  Fjord  that  ran  athwart  our  course;  then 
dn  round  the  curve  that  leads  to  Tromso  Sund. 

A  considerable  tide  was  setting  in,  the  buoys  coming 
on  and  passing  quickly,  with  quite  a  ripple  round  them. 


TROMSO  231 

Here  it  was  that  one  of  the  terrible  maelstrom  was 
supposed  to  lead  ships  to  their  destruction.  But  this 
whirlpool,  like  the  sea  serpent,  has  died  a  natural  death 
The  pilot  scoffed  at  the  idea,  and  suggested  that  this 
useful  knowledge  was  imported,  as  it  was  not  to  be 
found  on  Norwegian  charts.  The  stream  is  there,  no 
doubt,  but  to  anyone  used  to  the  tide  at  the  mouth  of 
Portsmouth  harbour  it  seems  but  a  sluggish  current. 

The  streets  of  Tromso  are  in  no  way  interesting.  There 
are  some  good  fur  shops,  however.  Evidently  it  is  a 
busy  trading  place,  if  one  may  judge  by  the  many  vessels 
anchored  there.  Outside  the  town  the  green  is  luxuriant, 
and  inside  every  house  has  some  attempt  at  window- 
gardening.  Geraniums,  cacti,  myrtles,  and  such -like 
foreigners,  bloom  and  flourish  under  careful  tending. 

According  to  the  pilot,  the  growth  is  wonderful :  birch 
trees  now  in  full  leaf  were  quite  bare  only  a  couple  of 
weeks  ago.  There  is  no  closing  of  the  blossoms  at  night- 
fall here,  no  vegetable  repose,  no  halting  of  the  upward 
movement  of  the  sap,  but  one  unceasing  development, 
stimulated  throughout  by  the  continuous  sunbeams. 
Then  comes  the  long,  long  winter's  sleep,  and  darkness, 
until  the  next  short  one-day  summer  awakens. 

Tromso  stands  on  the  oldest  rocks  of  the  globe.  The 
anchorage  where  we  now  lay,  in  full  sight  of  the  town,  was 
snug  and  protected.  Red-roofed  houses  and  picturesque 
groups  of  fishing  cabins  lined  the  water-side,  jostling 
the  great  warehouses  and  boat-builders'  yards.  The 
new  moon  stood  over  pink-flushed  Bensjordtind.  The 
sea  was  calm ;  the  air  still  and  warm ;  the  sky  to  the 
south  one  bright  luminous  haze  of  purple  and  yellow. 
The  mountains  and  snow-wreaths  glowed  with  that 
strange  rosy  fire  of  which  Alpine  travellers  rave. 

Level  northern  rays  threw  long  blue  shadows  on  the 


232  MIDNIGHT 

quiet  sound.  The  chatter  of  the  gulls  and  the  splashing 
of  the  fish  that  rose  and  flickered  all  round  us  were  the 
only  sounds  that  broke  the  silence.  As  the  sun  sailed 
along  the  horizon  the  shadows  wheeled,  but  the  colours 
remained.  Sunset-glow  deepened  till  it  reached  its 
greatest  depth ;  then  rosy  sunrise  gradually  faded  into 
the  bright  light  of  a  summer  day.  Thus  visible  all  at 
once  from  the  ship's  deck  are  evening  and  morning, 
night  and  day,  sunrise  and  sunset,  seen  together,  though 
definitely  separated  by  the  north  midnight  glow. 

It  was  past  eleven,  and  still  the  artist  continued  his 
sketch  ;  midnight  was  going  to  strike  as  he  lifted  his  head, 
holding  the  water  colour  away  from  him,  and  remarked, 
"  I  can't  see  as  much  as  I  did,  so  shall  leave  off.1'  But 
there  were  the  last  touches  to  put,  and  before  these  were 
finished,  the  cooler  grey  of  another  day  lit  up  the  town. 
Why  there  should  be  such  differences  I  am  not  able  to 
say  ;  why  the  sun's  rays  in  passing  westward  should  tint 
the  sky  with  warm,  languid,  evening  colours,  while  those 
that  at  the  same  moment  start  upwards  towards  the 
east  should  look  so  cool  and  grey  and  wakeful,  I  cannot 
tell;  but  here  they  are,  side  by  side  in  unmistakable 
contrast. 

Palest  blue  sky  without  a  cloud,  and  the  jagged  peaks 
jut  out  of  the  snow  wreaths,  which  curve  and  swell  into 
every  possible  fantastic  shape.  Out  of  each  hollow  in  the 
mountains  the  glaciers  push  downward,  sometimes 
poised  right  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  glittering  like 
emerald,  and  curling  like  the  waves  of  some  mighty 
frozen  ocean.  The  crannies  in  the  rocks  are  filled  with 
snow  right  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  the  heat  mist 
which  partly  veils  the  base  of  the  grey  rocks  and  hangs 
in  horizontal  wreaths,  makes  them  appear  the  more 
enormous. 


CLUSTERING  PINNACLES  233 

We  steam  past  jag  after  jag.  Here  the  pinnacles 
cluster  like  armed  knights  springing  up  among  the 
cliffs,  there  a  tall  arrow-headed  rent  stands  almost 
upright,  filled  with  a  glacier  that  seems  to  be  falling 
headlong  from  the  heights  above.  Up  against  the 
blue  it  is  smooth  and  white,  tipping  quietly  over  with 
a  clean  curve  to  the  crest,  where  it  breaks  into  thousands 
of  pale  green  cracks  and  cliffs.  Now  it  is  squeezed 
between  two  upright  masses  of  rock,  and  takes  a  twist  to 
the  left,  corrugating  and  shrivelling  the  surface  as  though 
there  were  eddies  and  backwaters  in  this  seemingly 
motionless  torrent.  There  is  farther  down  another 
smooth  acre  or  two,  which  again  below  breaks  up  into 
peaks  and  ridges  glistening  like  jewels. 

Though  flung  so  widely,  there  is  order  in  the  seams, 
which  follow  each  other  curve  for  curve.  Suddenly,  in 
the  midst  of  its  career,  down  the  cleft  the  glacier  comes  to 
an  end,  and  from  it  fine  streams  spring  into  space ;  thread- 
like at  first,  and  then  falling  with  a  rhythmic  patter,  they 
at  last  become  nothing  but  a  thin  cloud  of  misty  vapour. 
Lower  down  still  there  is  a  basin  into  which  the  falling 
mist  gathers  once  more,  and  turns  into  a  silver  vein, 
which  sub-dividing  again,  dashes  down  a  pyramid  of 
fallen  rocks  and  boulders  into  the  fjord. 

Now  we  are  passing  a  huge  bluff"  of  cold  grey  silurian 
stone,  seamed  and  worn  by  the  frosts  and  snows  of  ages, 
stained  russet  and  purple  in  patches.  It  is  everywhere 
covered,  on  the  flatter  surfaces,  by  loose  stones,  and 
great  piles  of  debris  lean  against  the  almost  upright 
sides,  with  just  here  and  there  a  little  clinging  grass. 

Next  there  is  a  big  sugar-loaf;  the  whole  west  side 
seems  to  oe  wearing  away  in  one  great  cataract  of 
rolling  stones.  Looking  back,  we  see  the  whole  of  the 
peaks  in  a  vista  one  behind  the  other,  the  snow  glistening 


234  LYNGEN 

bright  in  the  sun,  and  cold  and  blue  in  the  shadow. 
Miles  away  in  the  misty  distance  we  discover  the  highest 
rocks  only ;  the  rest  is  vapour. 

Following  the  coast  as  we  had  been  doing,  the  Alpine 
forms  disappeared  in  the  Trondhjem  depression,  only 
to  reappear  as  soon  as  Nordland  began.  Here  we  had 
again  come  into  the  well-known  scenery,  and  a  more 
majestic  panorama  it  is  impossible  to  find  than  the  wild 
gabbro  mountains  of  Lyngen  in  the  glow  of  the  midnight 
sun.  Away  from  the  sun  lay  the  bay,  a  faint  pink  opal, 
the  mountains  the  palest  blue ;  the  two  colours  mixed 
and  reflected  in  the  calm  water.  The  glorious  sun ! 
who  can  describe  it,  the  red  glow  in  the  sky,  the  pink 
haze  along  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  the  glowing 
peaks  drawing  out  one  after  the  other,  and  the  mist 
making  the  whole  look  like  transparencies. 

The  mountain  behind  which  was  the  sun,  stood  up,  a 
deep  blue  black.  The  sun  drew  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  edge,  disclosing  a  wonderful  peak,  a  wall  sheer 
down  into  the  fjord.  Soon  in  all  its  glory  it  blazed 
over  the  top,  reflecting  a  ladder  of  light  across  the  sea. 
The  waters  of  the  fjord  turned  to  the  palest  steel  with 
streaks  of  orange  on  the  tops  of  the  waves  left  by  our 
screw  and  the  over-ripple.  A  shoal  of  porpoises  slowly 
diving  were  so  much  the  colour  of  the  ripple  that  it 
was  difficult  to  tell  one  from  the  other. 

As  we  neared  Lyngen  the  sweet  smell  of  the  firs  was 
wafted  towards  us  from  the  shore,  mixing  with  the 
freshness  of  the  coming  day,  that  was  again  intensifying 
the  glow  in  the  sky.  I  shall  always  associate  Lyngen 
with  the  smell  of  the  firs :  never  had  I  known  it  sweeter. 
On  two  sides  they  encircled  us,  growing  thickly  on  the 
first  ridge  that  followed  the  valley.  It  is  a  town  of 
some  importance,  boasting  two  hotels,  a  church,  a  pastor, 


LAPP  ENCAMPMENT  235 

a  doctor,  a  lensmand,  and  a  proud  peasantry,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  Lapp  settlement. 

Lyngen  lies,  like  most  of  the  other  towns,  enclosed  in 
mountains  on  three  sides,  with  the  usual  little  white 
wooden  church  with  a  squat  black  roof,  and  many  white 
houses  dotted  about.  A  pebbly  beach  circles  the  shore 
with  rough  grass  growing  to  the  edge,  on  which  many 
boats  were  pulled  up.  To  one  side  of  the  boats  were  the 
"hjell"  for  drying  the  Torfisk,  and  along  the  shore 
wandered  the  ponies,  nibbling  the  grass  whilst  waiting 
for  their  masters,  who  had  come  in  from  the  country 
round  to  church.  Many  people  had  assembled,  for  a 
bishop  had  come  to  confirm  some  of  the  Lapps,  who  in 
twos  and  threes  were  walking  about  the  main  street ; 
wonderful  little  people  these,  and  so  fully  aware  of  the 
note  of  colour  needful  for  their  grey  surroundings. 
The  carioles  and  stolkjaerres  were  in  lines  round  the 
church,  and  the  good  people  seemed  to  me  almost  as 
interested  in  the  Lapps  as  we  were.  Many  streamed 
along  on  the  dusty  road,  in  the  company  of  the  Vecti 
on  their  way  to  the  camp.  The  Lapps  had  chosen  well. 
Their  camping  ground  was  a  mound  covered  with 
short  grass,  and  fir  trees  with  a  babbling  stream  to  one 
side  and  a  thicket  on  the  other,  where  the  reindeer 
browsed  and  were  milked. 

There  were  some  twenty  or  more  Lapps — such  funny 
little  men  with  red-gold  beards,  and  hair  that  grew 
like  our  friend  the  Golliewog's.  They  dressed  in  deep 
blue  cloth  caftans,  with  bright  red,  yellow,  and  green 
stripes  round  the  edges.  A  four-cornered  hat,  the  points 
of  which  turned  up  or  down  like  the  ears  of  a  rabbit, 
adorned  the  men^s  heads.  Their  bundled-up  gaitered 
legs  and  feet,  and  the  broad  leather  belt  fastened  very 
low  down,  gave  them  impossibly  long  bodies  and  short 


236     LAPP  CLOTHING  AND  ORNAMENTS 

legs.  These  Lapps  must  have  been  fairly  well  off,  as 
they  had  plenty  of  silver  ornaments  about  them,  and  the 
women  odd-shaped  silver  spoons,  that  they  kept  tucked 
in  the  bosom  of  their  gown.  Being  dressed  in  cloth,  too, 
was  a  sign  of  their  wealth,  meaning  that  they  had  two 
suits,  the  poorer  Lapp  only  having  the  one  of  fur,  like 
some  of  the  small  children,  who  gamboled  about  for  all 
the  world  like  Baby  Bunting  in  his  rabbit  skin. 

It  was  evident,  at  a  first  glance,  that  hot  weather 
does  not  suit  these  people.  They  shone  as  they  sat 
or  walked  in  a  perpetual  state  of  oily  fusion.  I  cannot 
think  what  they  can  have  felt  like  in  their  huts  in  such 
a  restricted  area  and  in  such  weather.  One  can  imagine 
that  on  the  bleak  cold  fjelds  such  close  quarters  might 
be  a  source  of  comfort  to  its  inhabitants;  how  a  sense 
of  warm,  loving  snugness  might  exist  among  a  heap  of 
these  little  people,  when  all  huddled  together  on  the 
floor  round  the  centre  fire  during  the  long  darkness  of 
their  bitter  winter-time.  On  a  day  like  this — well,  it  did 
not  look  comfortable. 

The  women  were  clothed  like  the  men,  all  but  the  cap, 
which  consisted  of  a  skull-cap  with  lappets  at  the  side, 
the  top  being  scarlet,  blue,  or  violet,  with  bands  of  many- 
coloured  strips,  and  edged  off  close  to  the  face  with  a 
little  common  white  lace.  The  owner  of  this  cap  also 
had  a  handsome  though  gaudy  tartan  silk  shawl  over  a 
woollen  one,  little  bits  of  odd  gold  ornament  on  her  belt, 
and  a  silver  spoon. 

We  had  some  trouble  to  make  her  sit  for  her  portrait, 
but  she  did  in  the  end,  and  felt  virtuous.  A  little  man 
had  been  hanging  in  a  dangerous  way,  with  his  family, 
over  our  shoulders,  greatly  interested  in  the  work ;  she 
insisted  on  his  sitting  for  his  likeness  also. 

When  he  was  seated,  his  wife  took  the  long  pipe  she 


A  LAPP  BABY  237 

was  smoking  out  of  her  mouth,  pushed  it  rapidly  into  his, 
dumped  the  baby  on  his  knee,  ran  into  the  hut  to  fetch 
the  baby's  new  and  still  more  brilliant  cap  with  a  red 
bob  on  the  top.  She  wrapped  a  big  comforter  round  its 
neck,  and  only  then  sat  down  contented  with  herself, 
taking  a  puff  at  a  friend's  pipe  now  and  then. 

"  The  Lapps,  who  are  generally  called  Finns  in  Norway, 
are  a  brachycephalic  race,  which,  however,  is  very  clearly 
distinguished  anthropologically  from  the  short-skulled 
type  found  among  the  true  Norwegians."  "  The  cranium 
is  lower,  more  rounded,  and  with  weak  muscular  attach- 
ments. The  face  is  very  broad  across  the  cheekbones, 
tapering  away  to  a  weak  chin,  the  nose  flat,  with  a  broad 
base,  and  the  mouth  large."  The  skin  is  dark,  but  I 
doubt  me  through  dirt  and  exposure,  as  Mr.  Hansen 
states  that  "the  skin  except  in  children  is  rather 
dark." 

I  talked  and  smiled  to  the  baby  whilst  our  artist 
sketched  the  group.  The  little  thing  was  wailing,  and 
looked  as  if  it  longed  to  be  loosed  from  its  coverings  and 
lacings.  Its  little  pale  flat  face  was  turned  up  to  the 
sun,  which  made  the  weak  eyes  water  and  glued  the  red 
lids.  Expressing  my  meaning  by  mute  action,  I  pleaded, 
"  Do  unlace  it,"  which  the  woman  did  with  a  grin.  I  was 
alarmed.  The  tiny  thing  caught  hold  of  my  two 
fingers  and  sat  up.  All  its  little  wrappings  fell  off,  and 
laid  bare  a  white,  plump,  perspiring  body,  quite  as  pale 
and  clean  as  any  English  baby.  I  kissed  and  tickled  it, 
making  it  laugh,  to  the  joy  of  the  camp. 

"The  hair  is  generally  chestnut  brown,  but  quite  as 
often  fair  as  dark.  The  growth  of  hair  on  the  men's 
faces  is  weak  and  shaggy,  generally  confined  to  the  upper 
lip  and  a  little  on  the  chin.  The  eyes  are  quite  as  often 
light  as  dark,  are  deep-set,  sometimes  obliquely  placed 


238  BALTO  AND  RAVNA 

under  heavy,  often  inflamed  eyelids."  The  stature  of  the 
pure  Lapp  is  very  small,  not  averaging  more  than  five 
feet;  to  this  is  added  a  slender  frame,  round  chest, 
and  but  slight  muscular  development,  bow  legs,  short 
broad  feet  and  a  waddling  gait.  How  far  the  fairness 
is  due  to  the  long-continued  crossing  with  Scandinavians, 
it  is  difficult  to  determine;  but  the  shorter-skulled  half 
of  Mantegazza's  Lapps  were  if  anything  fairer  than  the 
less  short-skulled.  In  any  case,  however,  the  Lapps  form 
a  very  distinct  race,  having  their  nearest  relatives  among 
the  Mongolian  tribes. 

Nansen  in  his  first  crossing  of  Greenland  had  ample 
time  to  study  the  two  Lapps,  Balto  and  Ravna,  who 
accompanied  him.  The  first  named  he  calls  a  "  River 
Lapp  " ;  these  are  generally  people  of  some  size  and  have 
much  Finn  blood  in  them,  and  are  of  average  height.  Balto, 
an  intelligent  fellow,  did  everything  he  undertook  with 
great  energy,  showed  some  power  of  endurance,  was 
willing  to  lend  a  hand  at  any  job,  whilst  his  ready  tongue 
and  broken  Norwegian  constituted  him  one  of  the 
enlivening  spirits  of  the  expedition.  Ravna  was  a 
mountain  Lapp  from  the  neighbourhood  of  Karasjok, 
and  had  spent  all  his  nomadic  life  in  a  tent,  wandering 
with  his  reindeer  about  the  mountain  wastes  of  Finmarken, 
often  swimming  them  across  the  fjords  to  feed  on  the 
islands.  Apparently  mountain  Lapps  are  lazy,  as  Nansen 
describes  him  as  never  being  so  pleased  as  when  sitting 
in  the  corner  of  the  tent  with  his  legs  crossed  doing 
absolutely  nothing.  "  He  was  very  small,  but  surprisingly 
strong  and  capable  of  any  amount  of  endurance.  He 
could  not  write,  and  had  no  acquaintance  with  so  modern 
an  apparatus  as  a  watch.  But  he  could  read,  and  his 
favourite  book  was  his  Lappish  New  Testament,  from 
which  he  was  never  parted."  Nansen  continues  :  "  Ravna 


LAPP  BOOTS  239 

and  Balto  were  good-natured  and  amiable ;  their  fidelity 
was  often  actually  touching,  and  I  grew  very  fond  of 
them  both." 

The  Lapp's  peculiar  boots  are  called  finnesko,  and 
are  made  of  the  skin  of  the  legs  of  the  reindeer  buck,  the 
pieces  with  the  hair  on  being  laid  for  twenty-four  hours 
or  so  in  a  strong  decoction  of  birch  or  similar  bark,  or 
sometimes  tanned  in  tar  water.  The  skin  of  the  hind 
legs  is  used  for  the  soles  and  sides,  and  that  of  the  fore 
legs  for  the  upper  leather,  the  hair  being  left  outside 
throughout  the  boot ;  these  the  Lapps  fill  with  sedge  or 
sennegraes  and  also  wrap  their  bare  feet  in  the  grass, 
making  a  pre-eminently  warm  covering  suitable  for  use 
on  "  ski  "  or  snow-shoes. 

Here  I  feel  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  Andr.  M. 
Hansen's  description  of  these  little  people,  who  filled  us 
all  with  so  much  interest.  On  board  the  ship  all  sorts 
of  questions  were  asked,  and  many  of  us  would  have 
given  a  good  deal  to  have  a  short  history  of  the  Lapps 
at  hand. 

"  Their  language  is  nearly  allied  to  that  of  the  Finlanders, 
more  distantly  to  the  other  '  Finno-Ugrian '  or  'Ural- 
Attaic/  There  is  now  no  longer  reason  for  upholding 
the  old  doctrine  that  the  Lapps  originally  peopled  the 
whole  of  Scandinavia;  they  came  to  Norway  later  than 
either  of  the  two  types  that  are  found  among  the 
Norwegians  proper,  coming  from  the  east  by  a  northern 
route,  as  a  hunting,  fishing  people  with  the  culture  of 
the  stone  age.  A  special  type  of  stone  implements  has 
been  referred  specially  to  them — '  the  arctic  stone  age,1 — 
and  these  implements  must  have  been  in  use  among  them 
much  longer  than  among  the  Scandinavians,  who  in  their 
turn  taught  them  the  full  use  of  the  reindeer,  upon  which 
the  true  nomadic  Lapps  are  so  dependent  for  their  sub- 


240        AN  ENGLISHMAN'S  EXPERIENCE 

sistence.  A  Lapp  is  not  considered  eligible  till  he 
possesses  a  herd  of  two  hundred  of  these  animals.  A 
thousand  years  ago  they  were  found  as  fishers  at  the 
head  of  the  fjords,  or  wandering  as  nomads  among  the 
mountains  in  very  much  the  same  districts  as  now,  hardly 
south  of  Jemtland.  It  is  only  lately  that  they  have 
advanced  in  any  numbers  worth  mentioning,  along  the 
mountain  ridge,  south  of  64°.  The  Lapps  cannot  be  said 
to  be  dying  out,  for  throughout  the  country  they  have 
increased  from  about  7000  in  1724  to  13,000  in  1845, 
and  21,000  in  1891.  Barely  one-tenth  of  these  are  now 
true  nomadic  Lapps ;  most  of  them  live  as  fishermen  in 
the  two  most  northerly  provinces." 

After  seeing  the  Lapps,  it  was  with  much  interest  I 
read  the  following  experiences  of  an  Englishman  who, 
through  stress  of  weather,  was  obliged  to  shelter  in  one 
of  their  camps : — 

"The  low  limit  of  the  fjeld  Finns  is  the  sea-level, 
about  the  North  Cape.  In  Sweden  the  deer  only  come 
down  in  winter.  There  is  plenty  of  moss  pasture  near 
the  sea,  but  a  certain  fly  drives  deer  and  men  to  the 
snow.  Farther  south  wild  reindeer  keep  on  the  high 
tops,  about  Romsdal.  Tame  deer  are  kept  as  far  south 
as  Bergen,  but  they  do  not  flourish  in  that  wet  climate, 
and  they  are  kept  in  the  high  fjeld.  They  never  come 
down  to  the  sea  or  rich  pasture,  but  seem  to  prefer  cold, 
and  moss  which  grows  in  cold  regions. 

"  By  the  time  we  got  up  to  the  kotos,  we  had  passed 
through  some  sharp  showers.  The  Lapps  had  now 
arrived,  and  a  tent  was  pitched  beside  the  conical  hut. 
In  the  Jcota  I  found  a  dirty  old  woman  and  a  lot  of 
dirty  children  sitting  round  a  fire  made  in  the  middle  of 
a  ring  of  stones,  and  looking  very  picturesque  in  the 
half  light  that  streamed  down  through  the  chimney. 


HOME  LIFE  AMONGST  THE  LAPPS      241 

There  was  a  heap  of  gear  and  human  creatures,  iron  pots 
and  wooden  bowls,  dogs  and  deerskins,  piled  in  admirable 
confusion. 

"  I  tried  the  other  tent,  and  found  a  very  fine-looking 
Lapp  woman  sitting  on  a  heap  of  deerskins,  serving  out 
coffee  and  reindeer  cream  to  the  docker  with  a  quaint 
silver  spoon.  She  had  silver  bracelets  and  a  couple  of 
silver  rings ;  and  altogether,  with  her  black  hair  and 
dark  brown  eyes  glancing  in  the  firelight,  she  looked 
Eastern  and  magnificent.  I  set  to  work  with  the  paint- 
box instanter,  but  she  would  not  sit  still  for  a  moment, 
and  it  was  almost  dark.  I  gave  it  up,  and  went  out 
amongst  the  deer. 

"  There  were  about  six  hundred  in  the  herd,  and  some 
old  stags  were  quite  magnificent.  One  had  fourteen 
points  on  one  brow  antler,  and  about  forty  in  all.  He 
looked  quite  colossal  in  the  evening  mist.  A  small  imp 
of  a  boy,  about  three  feet  high,  and  a  child  just  able  to 
toddle,  were  wandering  about  amongst  the  deer.  The 
boy  was  amusing  himself  by  catching  the  largest  stags 
with  a  lasso,  to  pull  the  loose  velvet  from  their  antlers. 
He  never  missed  his  throw,  and  when  he  had  the  noose 
round  the  beast's  neck,  it  was  grand  to  see  him  set  his 
heels  on  the  ground,  and  haul  himself  in,  hand  over  hand, 
till  he  got  the  noose  round  the  stag's  nose.  Then  he 
had  him  safe  and  quiet,  with  the  nose  and  neck  tied 
together,  and  then  they  posed  for  a  picture  of  savage 
life.  The  small  imp  was  practising  on  the  calves  and 
hinds,  and  screaming  at  them  in  simulation  of  the  bigger 
brother.  He  kept  kicking  the  big  stags,  which  lay  on 
the  ground,  with  the  most  perfect  familiarity. 

"After  I  got  packed  into  my  nest,  the  whole  herd 
almost  walked  over  me.  I  heard  their  heels  clicking 
beside  my  head,  as  they  went  grunting  like  a  herd  of 
16 


242  A  WARM  DRY  SHELTER 

swine.  A  Lapp  followed,  shouting  a  deep,  guttural 
'  Ho  ! 1  at  intervals,  and  several  dogs  followed,  yelping  at 
his  heels.  It  was  a  queer  feeling  to  lie  there  on  the  bare 
hillside,  and  hear  the  rushing  sound  of  their  feet  sweep 
through  the  low  scrubby  brush,  and  gradually  fade  away 
as  they  trotted  off'  to  the  sound  of  '  Ho  ! '  Presently  came 
the  patter  of  rain,  and  the  sough  of  a  rushing  wind  that 
shook  the  willow  bushes,  and  swept  moaning  over  the 
hill.  My  low  shelter  was  warm  and  dry,  and  I  slept 
soundly. 

"  Awakened  by  hearing  the  Lapps  chattering ;  poked 
my  head  out,  and  found  everything  wrapped  in  thick 
mist.  Pulled  my  head  in  again  to  brood  over  my  ill-luck, 
and  gather  courage  for  a  plunge  into  air.  Rolled  out  at 
last  and  scrambled  into  a  kota,  where  I  found  Marcus 
smoking  as  usual.  All  the  children  were  scrambling 
about  their  mother,  who  was  getting  ready  for  milking 
the  deer.  I  got  some  food  packed  up,  and  talked  about 
this  unattainable  place,  Antsik.  No  one  who  was  at 
home  could  find  the  way  in  such  a  mist;  so  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  for  clear  weather,  or  the 
father  of  the  family,  who  was  away. 

"  I  watched  the  day's  proceedings  till  the  mist  changed 
into  heavy  rain ;  when  I  pitched  my  tent  again  to  keep 
a  dry  bed,  and  spent  the  day  in  sketching  and  studying 
Lapps.  The  rain  came  through  the  tent,  and  in  the 
hut  it  was  impossible  even  to  sit  on  the  ground  without 
bending  forward.  The  children  would  look  over  my 
shoulder,  to  my  terror,  so  sketching  was  not  easy. 
There  were  five  dogs,  three  children,  the  old  woman, 
Marcus,  and  myself;  and  all  day  long  the  handsome 
lady  from  next  door,  and  her  husband,  and  a  couple  of 
quaint,  mangy-looking  old  fellows,  kept  popping  in  to 
see  how  the  stranger  got  on. 


THE  KOTA  243 

"  The  kota  itself  was  a  cone  of  birch  sticks  and  green 
turf,  about  seven  feet  high ;  and  twelve  or  fourteen  in 
diameter.  It  was  close  quarters,  but  the  scene  was  worth 
the  discomfort.  No  one  seemed  to  care  a  rap  for  rain, 
or  fear  colds,  more  than  the  deer. 

"Breakfast  consisted  of  milk  and  cheese  and  boiled 
fish;  and  whenever  any  dish  had  been  used,  the  old 
dame  carefully  wiped  it  out  with  her  crooked  forefinger, 
and  then  licked  the  finger  and  every  attainable  place 
in  the  dish  itself.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  her  dexterity, 
and  to  hear  her  talk  while  she  polished  the  dish.  When 
one  of  the  children  spilt  some  milk  on  its  deerskin  dress, 
it  was  all  gathered  and  licked  up  with  the  same  tongue 
which  found  time  to  scold  the  offender. 

"Dinner  was  reindeer's  flesh  boiled.  The  children 
cracked  the  bones  on  the  stones  after  they  had  polished 
the  outside ;  and  they  sucked  up  the  marrow.  Then  the 
dogs,  who  had  not  dared  to  steal,  were  called  in  their 
turn,  and  got  the  scraps.  Wooden  bowls  were  set  apart 
for  the  dogs.  There  was  an  extra  meal  after  dinner  on 
the  arrival  of  papa,  who  came,  dripping  like  a  river-god, 
with  a  supply  of  bread,  butter,  and.  salt  fish,  stowed 
in  a  leathern  bag.  This  was  evidently  an  unusual  treat, 
so  it  was  all  consumed. 

"  The  father  was  a  fine  man  for  a  Lapp,  forty  years 
old,  and  five  feet  high ;  he  had  walked  fourteen  miles 
in  a  deluge,  but  he  only  wrung  his  tall,  conical  blue 
cap  to  keep  the  water  from  trickling  down  his  nose ; 
and  then  he  sat  down  to  watch  his  children  enjoy  the 
feast,  while  a  brother,  and  a  young  girl  who  came  with 
him,  joined  our  circle.  We  were  decidedly  too  thick, 
so  I  went  next  door.  There  I  found  nobody  at  home 
but  a  black  dog.  Seated  myself  on  a  pile  of  deerskins 
to  have  a  quiet  pipe,  and  was  startled  by  a  loud  Lapp 


244  THE  TENT 

exclamation,  which  came  from  an  old  fellow  on  whom 
I  had  sat.  I  got  up,  laughing,  and  made  Marcus  brew 
coffee  for  all  hands. 

"The  tent  was  about  as  big  as  the  fcota,  made  of 
striped  stuff,  so  coarse  that  I  could  almost  see  through 
it,  as  through  a  veil.  It  was  patched  here  and  there, 
and  smoked  brown  near  the  top.  It  did  not  touch  the 
ground  anywhere,  and  at  the  smallest  disturbance  three 
dogs  plunged  out,  barking.  They  popped  in  when  the 
row  was  over,  and  curled  themselves  up  amongst  the 
gear.  The  door  was  a  canvas  slip,  like  a  boat's  jib,  with 
cross-sticks  to  fasten  it,  and  was  to  windward  so  that 
it  could  not  blow  open.  No  one  could  come  in  without 
stooping,  kneeling,  and  turning  sideways.  .  .  .  The 
canvas  was  stretched  on  poles,  which  were  joined  at  the 
top  with  considerable  skill.  .  .  .  The  owners  of  the 
tent  were  married  in  winter,  and  had  lots  of  gear,  silver 
ornaments,  bone  contrivances,  one  of  which  was  for 
weaving  coloured  woollen  bands;  baskets  of  ingenious 
shapes,  very  well  made  of  birch  and  fir  roots  variously 
coloured.  They  all  wore  long  knives,  and  the  newly 
married  couple  smoked  and  drank  coffee  at  intervals  all 
day. 

"Next  morning  found  the  Lapps  getting  up,  the  old 
woman  licking  the  dishes  clean  for  breakfast,  the  father 
smoking  whilst  putting  on  the  shoes  of  his  youngest 
child.  He  first  spread  out  a  handful  of  fine  hay  made 
from  a  particular  kind  of  grass,  and  then  he  tossed  it 
on  the  stones  beside  the  fire  till  it  was  perfectly  dry. 
Then  the  boy  was  seized  by  his  leg  and  laid  on  his  back, 
while  foot  and  hay  was  crammed  and  stuffed  into  a 
miniature  Lapp  shoe.  It  was  a  work  of  some  difficulty 
to  make  all  fit  nicely,  and  bind  it  all  neatly  round  the 
leg  and  the  leather  leggings.  They  made  a  good  group, 


THE   FJEI.D   LAPPER   OF  THE   NO-MAN'S-LAND  THAT   DIVIDES   NORWAY 
FROM    SWEDEN 


A  PICTURESQUE  GROUP  245 

the  father  and  son,  and  a  black  puppy  that  would  nibble 
the  boy's  rosy  cheeks  as  he  lay  sprawling  on  the  ground. 
The  Lapps  are  small  of  stature,  very  hardy,  good  sturdy 
walkers,  utterly  careless  about  wind  and  weather.  They 
are  not  free  with  their  goods ;  they  are  not  hospitable. 
No  Lapp  ever  offered  me  milk  or  coffee  when  he  helped 
himself.  They  gave  what  I  asked  for,  and  I  paid ; 
but  other  hill-folk  offer  their  best  to  the  stranger." 

From  a  topographical  point  of  view,  Norway  does  not 
seem  to  have  any  natural  boundaries,  in  a  general  sense, 
on  her  land  side.  It  was  proved  to  be  utterly  impossible 
to  draw  a  reasonable  frontier-line  that  really  followed  the 
parting  of  the  watersheds.  No  marked  division  exists,  no 
chain  of  mountains,  no  separating  keel.  It  has  never 
been  a  definite  natural  line  that  has  divided  Norway  from 
her  neighbours  on  the  east.  It  has  been  a  band  of 
desert  land,  some  hundreds  of  miles  in  width  ;  so  utterly 
desolate  and  apart  from  the  area  of  continuous  habita- 
tion, that  the  greater  part  of  it,  the  district,  a  desolate 
boundary,  north  of  Trondhjem,  was  looked  upon  so  late 
as  the  last  century  as  No  Man's  Land.  Heathen  Lapps 
wandered  about  in  it,  sometimes  taxed  by  all  three 
countries. 

This  district  was  parcelled  out  to  Sweden  in  1751  and 
to  Russia  in  1826.  It  was  partly  on  account  of  the 
geographical  ideas  prevailing  at  that  time  on  the  subject 
of  mountain  ranges  and  watersheds,  that  the  boundary 
was  drawn  so  far  west  on  the  mountain  plateau  as  it  lies, 
without  following  any  well-defined  ridge.  The  width  of 
this  desolate  region  is  about  200  miles,  with  a  population 
of  one  per  four  square  miles.  Along  the  Swedish 
frontier  southwards  to  60  degrees  N.  latitude,  the 
desert  strip,  serviceable  only  to  the  nomads,  is  about  120 
miles  wide,  double  the  width  of  Norway  itself. 


246         NORWAY'S  DESERT  BOUNDARY 

Altogether  Lapland  sends  down  a  wedge  between 
Norway  and  Sweden  calculated  to  be  150,000  square 
miles  in  area,  with  only  15,000  inhabitants, — a  lonely 
off-shoot  from  the  tundra  belt  of  the  shores  of  the  Polar 
Sea.  This  Lapland  strip  is  almost  broken  off  by  the 
depressions  round  the  Trondhjem  Fjord.  The  forests 
from  both  sides  meet  here  in  the  glens  between  the 
valleys.  Thus,  as  a  whole,  Norway's  land  boundaries 
towards  Sweden,  Russia,  and  Finland  are  defined  by 
a  broad  band,  desolate,  trackless,  uninhabited,  or  only 
occupied  by  the  nomadic  Lapp  and  forest  Finn,  —  a 
band  that  forms  a  very  complete  isolation  for  the  home 
of  the  Norwegian  people. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
HAMMERFEST  AND  NORTH  CAPE 

WE  had  left  Lyngen  and  all  its  beauties  behind, 
and  were  just  passing  Hasvik  point,  that  lay 
to  our  left  dark  against  the  sky,  when  far  ahead  down 
the  peaceful  Soro  Sund  we  became  aware  of  a  great  cloud 
of  black  smoke  rising  high  into  the  sky,  and  wondered 
what  in  the  world  it  could  be. 

Everything  burns  so  readily  in  Norway,  that  at  first 
we  thought  it  could  be  nothing  but  a  hamlet  on  fire. 
Smoke  seemed  so  out  of  place  against  the  thin,  transparent 
haze  that  lay  over  this  beautiful  stretch  of  water.  How- 
ever, it  advanced  rapidly,  and  we  soon  made  out  that 
there  were  many  parallel  columns  rising  from  a  mass 
of  funnels  and  masts  painted  a  soft  French  grey.  As 
they  came  on  we  knew  them  at  once  as  the  German 
Emperor's  battleships.  They  were  in  line  ahead,  throw- 
ing the  white  spray  of  the  peaceful  fjord  from  either 
side  of  their  bows,  and  showing  to  the  world  at  large 
the  sea  power  of  the  Fatherland.  We  soon  made  out 
the  golden  eagles,  the  speed  cones  at  the  yard-arms,  the 
colours  at  the  peaks,  the  men  clustered  round  the  guns, 
and  officers  upon  the  bridges.  They  certainly  kept 
station  well,  looked  as  fresh  as  paint  could  make  them, 
and,  except  for  the  distinguishing  red  bands  round  their 
funnels,  seemed  all  exactly  alike. 

The  masts  of  shipping  rose  in  an  inlet  by  the  point, 

247 


248  St)Rt)  SUND 

and  after  the  quiet  of  Lyngen,  Soro  Sund  seemed  quite 
a  populous  highway.  To  our  right  rose  the  unexplored 
glaciers  of  Jadki  in  the  island  of  Seiland,  and  to  our  left 
the  island  of  Soro,  on  the  head  of  which  rested  patches 
of  snow.  Every  here  and  there  a  green  bank  rose  to  the 
top,  alongside  bare,  seamed  rocks.  We  passed  a  light-house 
on  one  hand,  and  the  curiously  shaped  island  of  Haajen 
on  the  other,  and  crossed  the  strait  of  Strommen,  that 
divides  Seiland  from  Kvalo,  on  which  is  Hammerfest, 
the  most  northern  town  in  Europe. 

We  are  in  70°  40'  11"  N.  latitude.  There  could  not 
be  a  greater  contrast  between  the  prevalent  notion  of 
the  Arctic  regions  and  the  actual  reality.  Snow  lay  in 
patches  at  the  tops  of  the  hills,  it  is  true,  but  spring 
flowers  were  sprouting  in  every  sheltered  nook.  Big 
bright  patches  of  green  grass  came  down  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  a  mass  of  glowing  buttercups  filled  the  head 
of  the  bay.  The  houses,  all  of  wood  as  usual,  except 
those  rebuilt  since  the  great  fire  of  1890,  are  ranged  in 
rows,  with  some  likeness  to  streets.  The  great  warehouses 
stand  along  the  quays,  running  up  both  sides  of  the 
town  harbour,  that  was  full  of  vessels  of  many  nations. 
The  largest  number  were  from  the  ports  of  the  White 
Sea,  their  yards  and  spars  made  a  perfect  maze.  Bearded 
Russians,  Englishmen,  Swedes,  Germans,  Quains,  Finns, 
and  Lapps  filled  the  streets,  lounging  about  doors, 
smoking  and  chattering  in  many  tongues.  Boat -loads 
of  dried  cod  were  being  tossed  into  warehouses.  They 
seemed  to  be  as  hard  as  sticks,  but  every  boy  had  a 
bit  in  his  pocket,  and  as  he  ran  about  crunched  and 
sucked  it.  In  every  available  corner  hung  strings  of 
dried  and  drying  fish  ;  festoons  of  them  were  on  the  ships 
and  along  the  quays,  and  every  warehouse  was  piled 
full  on  each  floor  with  fish  and  salt. 


DR.  DE  JOHN'S  COD-LIVER  OIL          249 

Founded  in  1787,  Hammerfest's  trade  consists  of  train 
and  cod-liver  oil,  fish,  whales,  and  furs.  Large  train-oil 
stores  line  the  beach.  Besides  the  Protestant  Church 
Hammerfest  can  boast  a  Roman  Catholic  Chapel,  a 
Baptist  one,  called  "Bethel,"  and  a  few  shops.  Here 
the  sun  does  not  set  from  the  13th  of  May  to  the  29th 
of  July,  and  never  rises  from  the  18th  of  November  to 
the  23rd  January ;  but  the  electric  light,  introduced  into 
the  town  in  1891,  saves  the  situation.  Cod-liver  oil, 
prepared  in  numerous  boilers,  is  the  most  valuable  com- 
modity of  the  place,  and  gives  the  town  that  smell  many 
of  us  as  children  knew  so  well,  from  old  Dr.  de  John's  dark 
brown  to  what  is  now  playfully  called  "  tasteless." 

For  some  unexplained  reason  the  population  that 
wandered  on  the  quays  (that  were  the  most  at- 
tractive portion  of  the  town)  looked  innocent.  The 
fishermen  Lapps,  that  landed  from  their  boats,  con- 
tentedly picked  up  discarded  carrot-tops  and  chewed 
them  with  apparent  satisfaction.  Mrs.  Lapp  and  the 
Baby  Bunting  Lapps  (nothing  but  balls  of  fur)  bustled 
about,  whilst  Father  Lapp  sat  on  the  gaily- coloured  box, 
that  no  doubt  contained  all  their  valuables  and  ward- 
robe, nursing  the  last  new-comer  in  its  odd-shaped  cradle. 
He  was  a  proud  father,  and  was  unaffectedly  pleased  at 
our  notice  of  the  little  one.  The  Lapp  cradle  has  a 
great  deal  of  sense  in  it.  Wherever  the  baby  is  placed 
it  is  warm,  its  little  face  shaded  from  the  glare  by  the 
close  curtains,  and  its  little  body,  that  is  so  carefully  laced 
in,  is  on  the  whole  free.  None  of  its  clothes  are  tied 
or  fastened.  They  are  merely  wrapped,  one  soft  wrapping 
over  another,  and  the  whole  is  so  portable  that  the 
mother  walks  about  with  it  slung  over  her  shoulder  by 
a  thong,  or  carried  in  front.  They  were  a  happy,  chatty 
little  people,  so  unfeignedly  pleased  to  meet  their  friends, 


250  NANSEN'S  WELCOME 

as  they  gathered  at  the  long  tables  set  on  shore  under 
the  lee  of  the  warehouses,  where  Lapp,  Quain,  Finn,  and 
all  sorts  of  seafarers  sat  down  to  an  out-door  meal.  The 
nursemaids  looked  on  at  the  shouting,  rushing,  and 
yelling  of  a  madcap  company  of  Americans,  with  doe- 
like,  wondering  eyes,  while  small  parties  stood  and  watched 
the  noisy  foreigner  at  the  street-corners  or  gathered  in 
the  square. 

1  was  surprised  at  the  number  of  telegraph  cables 
that  left  this  small  town,  to  all  parts  of  the  globe.  In 
the  telegraph  office  a  large  map  showed  the  whole 
wonderful  system.  The  elderly  man  at  the  desk  looked 
at  me  over  his  glasses  as  I  passed  in  my  wire.  I  wondered 
if  he  was  the  same  man  who  had  been  so  electrified  at 
the  importance  of  the  news  that  he  was  to  take  to 
Nansen — 

"There  stood  a  gentleman,"  says  Nansen,  "with  a 
telegram  in  his  hand,  who  introduced  himself  as  the 
head  of  the  telegraph  office,  and  said  that  he  had  a 
telegram  to  deliver  to  me  which  he  thought  would  interest 
me,  so  he  had  come  with  it  himself.  Something  that 
would  interest  me?  There  was  only  one  thing  left  in 
the  world  that  could  really  interest  me.  With  trembling 
hands  I  tore  open  the  telegram — TRIDTJOF  NANSEN, — 
Fram  arrived  in  good  condition.  All  well  on  board. 
Shall  start  at  once  for  Tromso.  Welcome  home.  OTTO 
SVERDRUP/" 

This  was  on  August  24,  1896;  at  the  moment  that 
Nansen,  in  Sir  George  Baden-Powell's  yacht,  was  about 
to  sail.  The  two  parties  meeting  after  many  months  of 
separation  by  the  terrible  ice-pack. 

The  little  fountain  in  the  middle  of  the  square  played 
merrily,  shooting  and  upholding  in  the  air  a  small  silvered 
ball,  the  water  splashing  back  into  a  granite  basin.  The 


MERIDIANSTOTTE  251 

fenced-in  garden  grew  only  the  homely  buttercup,  but 
the  little  patch  was  intensely  green  and  bright.  High 
above  the  town  rose  the  tapering  spars  of  the  Marconi- 
graph,  and  in  a  line  below  it  was  a  goat  tethered  on 
a  house-top  quietly  browsing.  The  newest  thing  in 
telegraphy,  and  the  oldest  form  of  roof,  stood 
exemplified. 

At  the  end  of  the  promontory  of  Fuglnaes,  on  the 
opposite  side  to  the  town,  is  the  light-house,  with  the 
keeper's  house  all  snug  and  comfortable, — a  sinecure  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  The  men  standing  round  a 
cauldron  told  us  on  the  17th  of  August  the  light  would 
be  lit  for  the  first  time  since  the  spring.  All  round  were 
the  long  railings,  or  "hjell,"  for  drying  the  fish — acres 
of  them.  And  close  by  a  conspicuous  column  of  granite 
called  the  Meridianstbtte,  crowned  with  a  bronze  globe, 
erected  to  commemorate  the  measurements  of  degrees 
in  1852-62  by  the  geometers  of  three  nations,  by  order 
of  King  Oscar  and  Emperors  Alexander  i.  and  Nicholas  i. 
On  the  Fuglnaes  Sir  Edward  Sabine  made  some  famous 
experiments  with  the  pendulum  in  1823.  In  1818  he 
accompanied  Sir  John  Ross  in  search  of  the  North- West 
Passage,  and  that  of  Sir  E.  Parry  soon  afterwards,  but 
his  most  scientific  work  was  his  pendulum  observations ; 
he  being  the  first  to  show  the  altogether  unexpected 
amount  of  accuracy  attainable  in  a  matter  which  under 
the  most  favourable  conditions  is  one  of  great  delicacy. 
It  was  mainly  through  Sir  Edward  Sabine's  energy  that 
systems  of  magnetic  observatories  were  established  in 
various  parts  of  British  territory  all  over  the  globe. 

The  fog  that  had  so  often  been  predicted  had  come  at 
last.  It  was  not  possible  to  realise  that  it  existed  at  all. 
The  bay  was  clear  and  blue,  and  so  was  the  sky,  but  just 
outside  it  was  as  though  a  grey  curtain  had  been  drawn 


252  FOG 

across  the  fjord.  The  captain  paced  the  deck,  impatient 
to  be  off.  The  pilot  looked  stolidly  ahead  into  the  bank 
of  fog  that  was  slowly  thinning,  till  first  one  peak  and 
then  another  was  seen  as  though  floating  on  the  top — 
islands  in  the  mist.  We  had  lain  with  shortened  cable 
for  some  time. "  As  the  fog  lifted,  the  chain  again  rattled 
and  wound  in  round  the  steaming  capstan,  the  forecastle 
head  crowded  with  nimble-footed  Lascars  tending  and 
bedding  the  monster  anchor  as  its  head  appeared  in  line 
with  the  deck.  We  were  once  more  off,  and  carefully 
threading  our  way  northwards,  when  again  the  mist 
enveloped  the  ship,  and  so  closely  that  the  water  was 
invisible  from  the  deck.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
let  go.  The  cable  rattled  and  rattled,  link  after  link 
plunging  overboard.  The  chain-locker  must  have  been 
well-nigh,  if  not  quite,  empty ;  fathoms  and  fathoms  deep 
was  the  fjord,  and  around  and  ahead  could  be  heard  the 
whistle  of  the  launch  that  had  been  lowered  from  the  ship 
to  find  soundings,  our  great  deep  note  answering  the  shrill 
whistle  with  a  mighty  Ha-a-a. 

In  the  Natural  History  of  Norway  1751,  Pontoppidan 
tells  us  that  the  broken  (that  died  so  hard)  is  the  largest 
creature  in  the  world  ;  "  its  back  or  upper  part,  which  seems 
to  be  in  appearance  about  an  English  mile  and  a  half  in 
circumference  (some  say  more,  but  I  choose  the  least  for 
the  greater  certainty),  look  at  first  like  a  number  of  small 
islands  surrounded  with  something  that  floats  and  fluctuates 
like  seaweeds.  It  is  said  that  if  the  creature's  arm 
(tentacula)  were  to  lay  hold  of  the  largest  man-of-war, 
they  would  pull  it  down  to  the  bottom."  He  then  proceeds 
to  say,  "  If  I  were  an  admirer  of  uncertain  reports  and 
fabulous  stories,  I  might  add  much  more  concerning  this 
and  other  Norwegian  monsters,  whose  existence  I  will 
not  take  on  me  to  deny,  but  I  do  not  choose  by  a 


THE  BISHOFS  BELIEF  IN  THE  KRAKEN    253 

mixture  of  uncertain  relations  to  make  such  accounts 
appear  doubtful  as  I  myself  believe  to  be  true  and  well 
attested." 

Mr.  Milford  gives  an  extract  from  a  letter  of  "  an 
intelligent  friend  at  Bergen,"  Stiftamtmand  Christie,  whose 
name  is  so  much  connected  with  the  political  institutions 
of  Norway  from  the  year  1814.  "  I  especially  asked  his 
opinion  about  the  sea-serpent,  and  he  assured  me  that 
not  only  do  the  peasants  feel  convinced  of  its  existence, 
but  that  he  himself  believes  that  it  exists ;  that  the 
Bishop  of  Bergen,  a  few  years  ago,  published  an  article  in 
an  antiquarian  paper  which  comes  out  occasionally,  by  the 
directors  of  the  Bergen  Museum,  containing  information 
in  corroboration  of  the  belief;  that  the  inhabitants  of 
the  island  Herroe  at  Sondmor  see  the  serpent  every  year 
for  a  couple  of  months,  in  summer,  whenever  the  weather 
is  fine  and  the  sea  calm."  Who  would  disbelieve  the 
Bishop?  Does  the  kraJcen  still  exist?  If  so,  this  was 
the  moment  when  we  should  have  seen  it.  Through  the 
fog  it  was  possible  to  imagine  the  existence  of  any  such 
huge  sea-monster. 

In  Hakluyfs  Traffiques  and  Discouveries  we  find  that 
"They  proceeded  to  sea  againe,  and  Master  Chanceler 
held  on  his  course  towards  that  unknown  part  of  the 
world,  and  sailed  so  farre,  that  hee  came  at  last  to  the 
place  where  hee  found  no  night  at  all  but  a  continual  light 
and  brightness  of  the  Sunne  shining  clearly  upon  the 
huge  and  mightie  Sea."  And  here  is  a  report  to  "  Alfred 
King  of  England,  about  the  year  890." 

"  Octher  said  that  the  country  wherein  he  dwelt  was 
called  Helgoland.  He  said  that  upon  a  certeine  time 
he  fell  into  a  fantasie  and  desire  to  proove  and  know 
how  farre  that  land  stretched  Northward,  and  wether 
there  were  any  habitations  of  men  North  beyond  the 


254    OCTHER  "  ENCREASES  KNOWLEDGE" 

desert.  Whereupon  he  tooke  his  voyage  directly  north 
along  the  coast,  hauing  vpon  his  steereboord  alwayes  the 
desert  land  and  vpon  his  leereboord  the  main  Ocean : 
and  continued  his  course  for  the  space  of  3  dayes. 
In  which  space  he  was  come  as  far  towards  the  North 
as  commonly  the  whale  hunters  vse  to  trauell,  whence 
he  proceeded  on  his  course  still  towards  the  North  so  fan- 
as  he  was  able  to  saile  in  other  3  dayes.  At  the  end 
whereof  he  perceiued  that  the  coast  turned  towards  the 
East,  or  els  the  sea  opened  with  a  maine  gulfe  into  the 
land,  he  knew  not  how  farre.  Well  he  wist  and  remem- 
bered that  he  was  faine  to  stay  till  he  had  a  Westerne 
wind  and  somewhat  Northerly :  and  thence  he  sailed 
plaine  East  along  the  coast  still  so  far  as  he  was  able 
in  the  space  of  4  dayes.  At  the  end  of  which  time  he 
was  compelled  againe  to  stay  till  he  had  a  full  Northerly 
winde,  forsomuch  as  the  coast  bowed  thence  directly 
towards  the  South,  or  at  leastwise  the  sea  opened  into  the 
land  he  could  not  tell  how  farre.  .  .  .  Thorowout  all  his 
voyage  he  had  euermore  on  his  steereboord,  a  wildernesse 
and  desert  countrey,  except  that  in  some  places  he  saw  a 
few  fishers,  fowlers  and  hunters,  which  were  all  Fynnes  : 
and  all  the  way  vpon  his  leereboord  was  the  maine 
ocean.  .  .  .  The  principal  purpose  of  this  traueile  was 
to  encrease  the  knowledge  and  discoverie  of  these  coasts 
and  countreyes,  for  the  more  commoditie  of  fishing  of 
horse  whales,  which  have  in  their  teeth  bones  of  great 
price  and  excellence,  whereof  he  brought  some  at  his  return 
unto  the  king.  Skinnes  are  also  very  good  to  make  cables 
for  shippes." 

Like  Octher,  we  too  were  going  "  to  encrease  the  know- 
ledge and  discoveries  of  these  coasts  and  countreyes,  more 
especially  the  horse  whales,"  but  of  this  later.  At  the 
moment  we  were  off  Hjelmso  on  a  placid  blue  sea,  the 


HJELMSO  255 

little  islands  of  Molfo  and  Ingo  left  astern,  and  nothing 
but  a  vast  open  expanse  of  ocean  ahead.  Hjelmso  stood 
boldly  out  of  the  sea,  the  fleeting  shadows  running  and 
chasing  each  other  over  the  rock,  whilst  myriads  of  birds 
flew  across  its  face  high  into  the  sky,  disturbed  from  their 
nesting-places  by  the  fire  of  our  gun.  As  we  passed  on, 
the  cliffs  took  new  and  fantastic  shapes ;  the  most  wonder- 
ful being  the  Man  Rock ;  to  my  thinking  it  looked  more 
like  a  colossal  statue  of  the  Madonna  and  Child,  which, 
as  the  ship  steamed  farther  north,  opened  out  into  an 
up-standing  hand. 

"And  then  uprose  before  me, 
Upon  the  water's  edge, 
The  huge  and  haggard  shape 
Of  that  unknown  North  Cape 
Whose  form  is  like  a  wedge." — LONGFELLOW 

Cool,  hard,  and  grey  against  the  sky,  stood  the  famous 
Nordkap,  furrowed  with  deep  clefts  and  bare  of  verdure, 
except  upon  the  top,  where  its  surface  told  sharp  against 
the  sky,  a  pale  dried-up  green.  But  not  so  the  next  bend, 
where  ran  in  a  sheltered  bay  called  Hornvik,  off  which 
we  anchored.  On  landing  to  climb  to  the  summit,  the  first 
part  of  the  way  was  over  loose  stones.  Finns  had  sighted 
the  ship,  and  stood  offering  odd  mementoes  of  the  North, 
— whale-bone  stools,  sticks,  wonderfully  well-carved  knife 
handles,  and  shells.  My  surprise  was  great  to  find  this 
steep  glen  carpeted  with  flowers.  Varieties  that  we  had 
not  seen  up  to  date  blooming,  tall  and  delicate,  in 
this  sheltered  nook,  and  looking  strange  amongst  so 
much  that  was  bare  and  unpromising.  Here,  on  the  side 
of  the  path  where  one  had  to  cling  to  the  rope,  grew  the 
yellow-spurred  violet  (  Viola  haniearnis),  a  tiny  plant  only 
found  on  very  poor  soil ;  and  alongside  it,  taller  and 


256  NORTH  CAPE  FLORA 

bigger  than  I  had  yet  seen,  grew  Dryas  octopetala.  This 
same  studded  the  top  of  the  North  Cape,  but  was  there 
far  more  stunted.  Big  yellow  globe-flowers  waved  in 
company  of  many  grasses,  forget-me-nots,  the  pale  wild 
violet,  and  purple  cranesbill. 

The  way  up  was  very  rough,  and  along  the  top  the 
surface  was  nothing  but  grey,  loose  stones  intersected  with 
stunted  growths  of  stone  moss.  A  lonely  spot  was  this, 
and  in  the  winter  awful,  with  the  storms  that  circle  round 
the  headland,  the  lightning,  the  thunder,  the  powerful 
sea,  and  the  dark.  Those  who  were  not  strong  enough 
for  the  climb  had  had  some  fine  sport  with  the  fish,  which 
was  most  plentiful. 

Again  we  steamed  north ;  the  sun  no  longer  sinking, 
revolved  round  us,  lighting  the  cliffs  and  sky  above ; 
the  sun  worshippers  on  board  bowed  to  the  deck,  gazed 
and  prayed,  and  we  were  silenced  by  its  wonder.  Sea, 
nothing  but  sea !  met  our  gaze.  This  was  a  day  for 
entering  up  diaries,  reading  and  rest ;  I  for  one  enjoyed 
and  made  the  most  of  the  opportunity,  collecting,  drying, 
and  preserving  flowers,  sorting  and  naming.  I  also  read 
my  book  upon  the  subject,  and  found  that  the  forest 
growth  of  Norway  consists  chiefly  of  pine  and  fir,  which 
clothe  the  slopes  of  the  mountain  valleys,  especially  in 
southern  Norway,  as  those  of  Glommen  and  its  tributaries, 
those  of  the  Drammen,  Laurvik,  Skien,  Arendal,  and 
Christiansand  districts,  and  those  drained  by  the  river 
disemboguing  at  Frederikshald.  Extensive  forests  of 
coniferous  trees  are  also  found  in  Trondhjem  stift  and 
the  Amt  of  Nordland. 

The  woods  of  Bergen  and  Tromso  consist,  with  a  solitary 
exception,  of  fir  alone.  The  limit  of  the  fir  belt  is  2000 
to  3000  feet  above  the  sea — through  the  Trondhjem 
district  from  1600  to  2000 — and  with  the  sole  exception 


NORWEGIAN  TREES  AND  FLOWERS     257 

of  the  birch,  none  of  the  trees  indigenous  to  the 
country,  bearing  or  producing  leaves,  form  woods  of 
great  extent.  The  birch  reaches  higher  up  the  mountain 
sides  than  do  any  of  the  conifers,  and  forms  a  belt 
above  them,  which  is,  however,  exceedingly  narrow  in 
Southern  Norway.  Next  come  the  dwarf  birch  and 
various  species  of  willows,  and,  last  of  all,  between 
this  and  the  snow-limit,  the  lichen  belt.  In  the  fertile 
and  less  elevated  districts  of  Norway  the  forest  growth, 
apart  from  the  conifers,  includes  the  ash,  elm,  lime,  oak, 
beech,  and  black  alder.  The  aspen,  white  alder,  mountain 
ash,  and  bird-cherry  thrive  at  a  considerable  elevation, 
and  are  occasionally  found  even  in  the  birch  zone.  The 
ash  still  grows  abundantly  on  the  south-eastern  coast, 
from  Jarlsberg-Laurvik  and  to  Christiansand,  but  is  no- 
where found  in  extensive  forests.  The  only  locality  in 
which  the  beech  can  be  said  to  thrive  is  Jarlsberg-Laurvik 
amt. 

The  vast  fir  and  pine  forests  are  still  the  haunts  of  the 
largest  of  Europe's  wild  animals — the  bear,  the  lynx,  and 
the  wolf — though  for  some  unaccountable  reason  the 
latter  has  been  decreasing  during  the  last  twenty  years  in 
Southern  Norway  and  may  now  be  regarded  as  the  most 
rare  of  Norwegian  beasts  of  prey.  In  Finmark  the 
wolf  still  abounds,  constituting  the  worst  enemy  to  the 
herds  of  reindeer.  The  bear  also  is  less  frequently  met 
with,  a  fact  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  immense  quantities 
of  timber  felled  of  late  throughout  the  country. 

Bjomson,  in  his  pretty  tale,  The  Bridal  March,  describes 
a  bear  breaking  through  the  forest  and  frightening 
Mildred,  the  heroine,  who  was  sitting  one  day  near  the 
saeter,  herding  the  goats  and  sheep,  because  one  of  the 
boys  had  played  truant  and  she  had  to  do  his  work. 

"  It  was  a  warm  midday  ;  she  was  sitting  in  the  shade 
17 


258  WILD  ANIMALS 

of  a  hillock  overgrown  with  birch  and  underwood;  she 
had  thrown  off  her  jacket  and  taken  her  knitting  in  her 
hand,  and  was  expecting  Inga.  Something  rustled  behind 
her.  '  There  she  comes,'  thought  Mildred,  and  looked  up. 
But  there  was  more  noise  than  Inga  was  likely  to  make, 
and  such  a  breaking  and  cracking  among  the  bushes. 
Mildred  turned  pale,  got  up,  and  saw  something  hairy 
and  a  pair  of  eyes  below  it, — it  must  be  a  bear's  head ! 
She  wanted  to  scream,  but  no  voice  would  come;  she 
wanted  to  run,  but  could  not  stir. 

"The  thing  raised  itself  up — it  was  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  man  with  a  fur  cap,  a  gun  in  his  hand.  .  .  . 
*  Oh,  dear ! 1  she  said ;  '  I  thought  it  was  a  bear  breaking 
through  the  bushes,  and  I  got  such  a  fright ! '  and  she 
tried  to  laugh.  *  Well,  it  might  almost  have  been  that,1 
said  he,  speaking  in  a  very  quiet  voice ;  '  Kvas  and  I 
were  on  the  track  of  a  bear,  but  now  we  have  lost  it; 
and  if  I  have  a  vardoger  (the  old  superstition  that  every 
man  is  followed  by  an  invisible  animal  resembling  him 
in  character,  a  superstition  which  is  still  common  among 
the  peasants),  it  is  certainly  a  bear.  .  .  .'  She  felt  the 
inclination  to  say,  '  Go  away ! '  but  instead  she  drew 
back  a  few  steps,  and  asked,  *  Who  are  you  ? 1  She  was 
really  frightened.  '  Hans  Haugen,1  answered  the  man 
rather  absently ;  for  he  was  paying  attention  to  the  dog, 
which  seemed  to  have  found  the  track  of  the  bear  again. 
.  .  .  'Forgive  me  for  having  frightened  you,1  he  said, 
and  took  his  way  up  the  hillside  after  his  dog. 

"By  the  time  she  ventured  to  look  up  he  had  just 
reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  there  he  turned  to  look 
at  her.  It  was  only  for  an  instant,  for  at  that  moment 
the  dog  barked  on  the  other  side.  Hans  gave  a  start, 
held  his  gun  in  readiness,  and  hurried  on.  Mildred  was 
still  gazing  at  the  place  where  he  had  stood,  when  a  shot 


HANS  HAUGEN  259 

startled  her.  Could  this  be  the  bear?  Could  it  have 
been  so  near  her  ?  Off  she  went  climbing  where  he  had 
just  climbed,  till  she  stood  where  he  had  stood,  shading 
her  eyes  with  her  hand ;  and,  sure  enough,  there  was 
Hans  half  hidden  by  a  bush,  on  his  knees  beside  a  huge 
bear ! 

"  Before  she  knew  what  she  was  doing,  she  was  down 
beside  him.  He  gave  her  a  smile  of  welcome,  and  ex- 
plained to  her,  in  his  low  voice,  how  it  had  happened 
that  they  had  lost  the  track  and  the  dog  had  not  scented 
the  animal  till  they  were  almost  upon  it.  By  this  time 
she  had  forgotten  her  tears  and  her  bashfulness,  and  he 
had  drawn  his  knife  to  skin  the  bear  on  the  spot.  The 
flesh  was  of  no  value  at  the  time ;  he  meant  to  bury  the 
carcass  and  take  only  the  skin.  So  she  held,  and  he 
skinned ;  then  she  ran  down  to  the  saeter  for  an  axe  and 
spade ;  and  although  she  still  felt  afraid  of  the  bear,  and 
it  had  a  bad  smell,  she  kept  on  helping  him  till  all  was 
finished.  By  this  time  it  was  long  past  twelve  o'clock, 
and  he  invited  himself  to  dinner  at  the  saeter.  He  washed 
himself  and  the  skin,  no  small  piece  of  work,  and  then 
came  in  and  sat  beside  her  while  she  finished  preparing 
the  food." 

The  bears  are  most  numerous  now  in  Trondhjem, 
Nordland,  and  Romsdal  amts ;  in  all  some  hundred  and 
fifty  are  killed  throughout  Norway  in  the  year.  Lynxes, 
too,  are  fairly  plentiful  and  do  not  seem  to  diminish. 
Nordre  Trondhjem  would  appear  to  be  its  northern 
limit,  where  its  depredations  on  feathered  game  and 
hares  cease. 

In  the  great  forests — especially  where  the  soil  is  marshy, 
and  there  is  a  mingled  growth  of  ash,  mountain  ash,  and 
willow — the  elk  occurs,  and  appears  to  be  increasing  in 
numbers  in  some  places,  notwithstanding  the  vast  quantity 


260    THE  ELK  DEER  AND  THE  GLUTTON 

of  timber  felled,  doubtless  attributable  to  the  rapid  de- 
crease of  its  worst  enemies,  the  wolf  and  the  bear.  The 
elk  is  most  numerous  in  Hcdemark,  Buskerud,  and  in 
some  parts  of  Akershus  and  Smaalenene,  and  considerable 
numbers  have  been  met  with  of  late  throughout  Nordre 
Trondhjem  amt.  Elk  is  also  found  in  the  west  of  Norway, 
behind  Namsos,  but  its  place  is  partially  taken  by  the  red 
deer,  which  selects  as  its  haunts  the  largest  of  the  wooded 
islands  on  the  coast  and  the  numerous  semi-insular  pro- 
jections of  the  mainland.  It  is  most  abundant  on  the 
island  of  Hitteren,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Trondhjem 
Fjord. 

The  wild,  desolate  wastes  of  the  fjelds  are  the  home  of 
the  glutton  and  the  reindeer,  the  lemming  and  the  polar 
fox.  Large  herds  of  reindeer  still  roam  throughout  the 
alpine  region  of  the  fjelds  between  Eastern  and  Western 
Norway  and  on  the  Dovre  Mountains,  the  Rundane  and 
the  highlands  between  Gudbrandsdal  and  Osterdal,  and 
Gudbrandsdal  and  Valders;  but  this  noble  animal  has 
become  scarcer  of  late  years  largely  due  to  the  numbers 
killed  by  peasant  hunters  who  fire  into  the  midst  of  the 
herd,  sometimes  maiming  at  a  shot  half  a  dozen  animals, 
which  they  cannot  hope  to  secure,  and  which  afterwards 
become  the  prey  of  the  glutton. 

Of  all  the  animal  tribe  in  Norway  the  lemming  is  by 
far  the  most  curious.  It  is  quite  a  small  animal  belonging 
to  the  order  Rodentia,  is  about  five  inches  long,  with  a  soft 
yellowish  brown  coat  marked  with  spots  of  dark  brown 
and  black.  It  has  a  short  rounded  head,  obtuse  muzzle, 
small  bead-like  eyes,  and  short  rounded  ears,  nearly  con- 
cealed by  the  fur.  The  tail  is  very  short,  the  feet  small, 
each  with  five  claws,  those  of  the  forefeet  strongest,  and 
fitted  for  scratching  and  digging.  The  usual  dwelling- 
place  of  the  lemmings  is  in  the  high  lands  or  fells  of  the 


LEMMING  261 

great  central  mountain  chain  of  Norway  and  Sweden, 
from  the  southern  branches  of  the  Langfjeld  in 
Christiansand  stift  to  the  North  Cape  and  the  Varanger 
Fjord.  South  of  the  Arctic  circle  they  are,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  exclusively  confined  to  the  plateaus  covered 
with  dwarf  birch  and  juniper  about  the  conifer  region, 
though  in  Tromso  amt  and  in  Finmarken  they  occur  in 
all  suitable  localities  down  to  the  level  of  the  sea.  The 
nest  is  formed  under  a  tussock  of  grass  or  a  stone  and 
constructed  of  short  dry  straws,  and  usually  lined  with 
hair.  The  number  of  young  is  usually  five,  occasionally 
seven  or  eight,  and  at  least  two  broods  annually.  Their 
food  is  entirely  vegetable,  grass  roots  and  stalks,  shoots 
of  the  dwarf  birch,  reindeer  lichens,  and  mosses.  They 
are  restless,  courageous,  pugnacious  little  animals,  and 
when  disturbed,  instead  of  running  away,  sit  up  with  their 
back  against  a  stone  or  other  coign  of  vantage,  hissing  and 
showing  fight  in  a  very  determined  manner. 

The  circumstance  which  has  given  more  popular 
interest  to  the  lemming  than  to  a  host  of  other  species 
of  the  same  order  of  animals,  is  that  certain  districts 
of  the  cultivated  lands  of  Norway  and  Sweden,  where 
in  ordinary  circumstances  they  are  quite  unknown,  are 
occasionally  and  at  very  uncertain  intervals,  varying  from 
five  to  twenty  or  more  years,  literally  overrun  by  an  army 
of  these  little  creatures.  They  steadily  and  slowly 
advance,  always  in  the  same  direction,  and  regardless  of 
all  obstacles,  swimming  across  streams  and  even  lakes 
of  several  miles  in  breadth,  devastating  the  herbage  by 
the  quantity  of  food  they  consume.  In  this  march  across 
country  they  are  pursued  and  harassed  by  crowds  of 
beasts  and  birds  of  prey,  as  bears,  wolves,  foxes,  dogs, 
wild  cats,  stoats,  weasels,  eagles,  hawks,  and  owls.  Man 
never  spares  them,  and  even  the  domestic  animals  not 


262    LEMMING  SEEK  SUBMERGED  ATLANTIS 

usually  carnivorous  cannot  resist  these  much-harried 
little  animals,  and  cattle,  goats,  and  reindeer  crush  them 
with  a  stroke  of  their  cloven  hoofs,  for  the  sake  of  the 
vegetable  matter  they  contain.  None  ever  return  by 
the  course  by  which  they  came,  and  the  onward  march 
of  the  survivors  never  ceases  until  they  reach  the  sea, 
into  which  they  plunge,  and,  swimming  onwards  in  the 
same  direction  as  before,  perish  in  the  waves.  It  reminds 
one  of  the  swine  in  Scripture  into  which  the  evil  spirits 
had  entered. 

The  ancient  belief  of  the  Norwegian  peasants,  shared 
in  by  Olaus  Magnus,  was  that  these  little  animals  fell 
from  the  clouds;  and  another  untenable  hypothesis  is 
that  of  Mr.  W.  D.  Crotch,  that  they  are  acting  in  these 
migrations  in  obedience  to  an  instinct  inherited  from 
vastly  ancient  times,  and  are  still  seeking  the  congenial 
home  in  the  submerged  Atlantis  to  which  their  ancestors 
of  the  Miocene  period  were  wont  to  resort  when  driven 
from  their  ordinary  dwelling  -  places  by  crowding  or 
scarcity  of  food. 

The  principal  really  ascertained  facts  regarding  these 
migrations,  as  stated  by  Mr.  R.  Cottell  in  Proceedings 
of  the  Linnean  Society,  vol.  xiii.  p.  327,  1878,  seem  to  be 
as  follows : — 

"  When  any  combination  of  circumstances  has  occasioned 
an  increase  of  the  numbers  of  the  lemmings  in  their 
ordinary  dwelling-places,  impelled  by  the  restless  or 
migratory  instinct  possessed  in  a  less  developed  degree 
by  so  many  of  their  congeners,  a  movement  takes  place 
at  the  edge  of  the  elevated  plateau,  and  a  migration 
towards  the  lower-lying  land  begins.  The  whole  body 
moves  forward  slowly,  always  advancing  in  the  same 
general  direction  in  which  they  originally  started,  but 
following  more  or  less  the  course  of  the  great  valleys. 


A  LEMMING  YEAR  263 

They  only  travel  by  night ;  staying  in  congenial  places 
for  considerable  periods,  with  unaccustomed  abundance 
of  provender.  Notwithstanding  all  the  destructive  in- 
fluences to  which  they  are  exposed  they  multiply 
excessively  during  their  journey,  having  still  more 
numerous  families  and  more  frequently  than  in  their 
usual  homes.  The  progress  may  last  from  one  to  three 
years,  according  to  the  route  taken  and  the  distance  to 
be  traversed  until  the  seacoast  is  reached,  which  in  a 
country  so  surrounded  by  water  as  the  Scandinavian 
peninsula  must  be  the  ultimate  goal  of  such  a  journey. 
This  may  be  either  the  Atlantic  or  the  Gulf  of  Bothnia, 
according  as  the  migration  has  commenced  from  the 
west  or  the  east  side  of  the  central  elevated  plateau. 
Those  that  finally  perish  in  the  sea,  committing  what 
appears  to  be  a  voluntary  suicide,  are  only  acting  under 
the  same  blind  impulse  which  has  led  them  previously 
to  cross  smaller  pieces  of  water  with  safety." 

Insignificant  as  this  little  animal  is,  he  plays  an 
important  part  all  over  Norway,  having  before  now 
laid  waste  entire  districts,  and  so  polluted  the  waters  as 
to  cause  what  was  called  lemming  fever,  a  horrible  kind 
of  jaundice.  Fortunately  a  lemming  year  comes  at  rare 
intervals,  the  last  migration  reported  being  in  1863. 
One  thing,  and  only  one,  makes  some  amends  to  the 
poor  farmer  for  his  destroyed  crops  and  poisoned  water. 
The  lemming  is  delicious  food  to  all  the  wild  animals 
which  follow  their  track  across  country;  thus  the  bad 
harvest  is  often  made  good  by  the  hunting  that 
follows. 

Like  our  own  late  spring  in  England,  the  most 
beautiful  time  of  the  year  in  Norway  is  when  the  flowers 
show  through  the  grass.  In  Norway  the  greater  part 
of  the  meadows  are  "  natural,"11  it  is  the  grasses  belonging 


264    LINNJEA  BOREALIS  NATIONAL  FLOWER 

to  the  land  that  are  allowed  to  contend  for  a  place  in  it, 
and  very  beautiful  they  are  when  in  full  flower.  The 
grass  is  fine  and  soft,  such  as  the  Agrostis  vulgaris,  with 
its  brush  of  fine  reddish  brown  hairs,  the  yellowish  green 
fragrant  Ccespitosa,  in  company  of  the  Ranunculus 
acris  and  Rhinanthus,  that  pretty,  innocent-looking  little 
creeper  that  clings  to  the  grass  stems,  pushing  rootlets 
into  its  host  all  the  way  up,  by  way  of  sustenance.  The 
blue-eyed  hepatica  grows  in  the  spring,  the  same  as  in 
our  English  wood,  with  aconite,  and  saxifraga,  with  its 
intense  white  bells  and  kidney-shaped  leaves.  The 
crimson-blossomed  crobus  grows  in  the  woods  everywhere, 
with  sweet  veronica,  meadow-sweet,  the  clustered  bell- 
flower  Campanula  glomerata,  little  graceful  snake-weed, 
and  the  hedge  mustard.  The  handsome  purple  vetch 
decorates  the  banks  and  fields,  toad-flax  and  purple 
meadow  crane's-bill  grow  side  by  side  with  white  campion  ; 
the  big  ox-eyed  daisy  flourishes  everywhere  in  company 
with  the  mauve  field  scabious,tcrimson  foxglove,  and  the 
little  mountain  pansy  (  Viola  luted). 

To  the  Norwegian,  however,  above  all  these  rank  the 
fragrant  Linnaca  borealis,  a  small  flower  with  little  pink- 
white  bells  growing  from  the  top  of  a  long  fine  stem, 
with  two  or  three  small  leaves  towards  the  base.  This 
is  the  national  flower  of  Norway,  and  was  named  after 
Linnaeus,  the  great  botanist,  who  died  in  1778.  His 
arms  are  those  now  borne  by  the  Linnaean  Society  of 
London.  He  selected  this  little  plant  to  bear  his 
name  from  a  similarity,  as  he  thought,  between  it  and 
himself. 

Wherever  the  conifers  predominate  they  pretty  well 
dislodge  all  plants  that  cannot  grow  in  their  shade,  and 
in  the  spruce  woods  the  flora  is  very  deficient  in  species. 
It  is  the  leafy  mosses  that  form  the  carpeting  Hypnum 


REINDEER  MOSS  265 

splendeus,  Schreberi  and  triquetrum,  with  a  small 
number  of  phanerogamous  (or  plants  with  visible 
flowers).  The  bilberry,  for  instance,  is  a  characteristic 
plant  in  the  spruce  woods,  and  the  whortleberry  where 
grows  the  pine.  Of  these  two  berries  the  Norwegian 
woods  are  full,  most  of  which  are  left  untouched,  as  it 
does  not  pay  to  gather  them.  There  are  some  few  species 
of  Lycopodium. 

In  dry  places  where  the  soil  is  shallow  are  abundance 
of  juniper,  ling,  and  black  crow-berry.  These  little  shrubs 
are  among  the  most  easily  /-contented  plants  in  the 
Norwegian  flora,  and  have  a  wide  distribution  over  the 
whole  country,  from  sea-level  to  high  up  on  the  mountains. 
Species  of  lichen  also  form  an  essential  part  of  the 
vegetation.  The  reindeer  moss  (Claudonia  rangiferlnd) 
is  found  all  over  the  woods,  especially  on  large  stones 
and  rocks,  and  on  dry  soil.  In  the  pine  woods  it 
often  gains  the  upper  hand,  covering  the  ground  with 
a  light  grey  carpet  with  its  different  species,  and  hang- 
ing from  the  branches  of  the  spruce  with  long  grey 
tresses. 

In  bogs  the  low  growth  is  generally  composed  of 
sphagnum,  and  on  the  mounds  grow  sedges,  ling,  bilberry, 
blaeberry,  and  quantities  of  cloud-berries  with  their  pretty 
and  palatable  orange-coloured  fruit. 

"The  eider  is  a  large  marine  duck,  famous  for  its 
down,  which,  from  its  extreme  lightness  and  elasticity, 
is  in  great  request  for  filling  bed- coverlets.1"  The  writer 
of  the  above  had  evidently  not  met  the  beautiful  rugs 
made  of  the  eider  skins,  not  plucked  (though  they  do 
this  by  themselves  later),  or  he  would  without  doubt  have 
added  the  rug  to  the  list  of  this  famous  duck's  uses. 
The  rugs  are  beautiful  and  quite  a  joy  to  an  invalid 
because  of  their  lightness  and  warmth,  and  while  away 


266  EIDER-DUCK  RUGS 

many  a  tedious  moment,  the  thin  weak  hand  wandering 
caressingly  over  and  through  the  soft  down  of  the  breast 
that  forms  one  side  of  the  rug,  whilst  the  back  of  the 
bird  forms  the  other.  The  pretty  pale  sea-green  patch 
that  is  only  seen  on  the  male's  head  when  he  has  arrived 
at  the  age  of  full  dress  and  fatherhood,  forms  a  unique 
and  pretty  border.  The  rug  deserves  a  line  to  itself, 
and  so  does  the  duck,  because  of  the  rug. 

This  bird  generally  frequents  low  rocky  islets  near 
the  coast,  and  in  Iceland  and  Norway  has  long  been 
afforded  every  encouragement  and  protection,  a  fine 
being  inflicted  for  killing  it  during  the  breeding  season, 
or  even  for  firing  a  gun  near  its  haunts.  Artificial 
nesting-places  are  in  many  localities  contrived  for  its 
further  accommodation.  From  the  care  it  receives  it 
has  become  exceedingly  tame  at  its  chief  resorts,  which 
are  strictly  regarded  as  property.  The  eider  is  rather 
clumsy,  though  it  flies  fast  and  dives  admirably.  The 
female  is  of  a  dark  reddish  brown  colour  barred  with 
brownish  black,  the  male  when  young  being  almost  the 
same  colour.  The  males  keep  apart  in  flocks  by  them- 
selves till  the  third  year,  when  they  change  their  sober 
plumage  to  a  pied  plumage  of  sable  beneath  and  a 
creamy  white  above,  and  the  beautiful  patch  of  sea- 
green  that  makes  them  eligible.  The  nest  is  generally 
in  some  convenient  corner  among  large  stones,  hollowed 
in  the  soil,  and  furnished  with  a  few  bits  of  dry  grass, 
seaweed,  or  heather,  and  by  the  time  the  five  eggs  are 
laid,  the  down  is  added.  Then  begins  the  robbing  of 
the  nest.  The  down  and  eggs  are  taken  at  intervals  of 
a  few  days  by  the  owner  of  the  "eider-fold,"  and  the 
birds  are  thus  kept  depositing  both  during  the  whole 
season.  The  duck  is  ultimately  allowed  to  hatch  an  egg 
or  two  to  keep  up  the  stock,  and  the  down  from  the 


WARM  AND  COMFORTABLE  267 

last  nest  is  gathered  after  the  birds  have  left  the  spot. 
The  drake  never  goes  near  the  nest,  so  that  our  feelings 
are  not  harrowed  any  longer  at  the  thought  of  this 
sublime  parent  plucking  his  own  breast.  We  can  with 
an  easy  conscience  snuggle  under  our  eidys. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

"A  great  while  ago  the  world  begun 
With  hay,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain." 

SHAKESPEARE 

AGES  and  ages  ago,  so  long  indeed  that  the  human 
mind  can  hardly  grasp  the  tremendous  abyss  which 
parts  us  from  that  distant  time,  the  restless  water  rolled 
and  tumbled.  Perhaps  it  was  very  hot,  for  the  world 
was  new  and  the  steam  would  hang  heavy  in  clouds  close 
down  to  the  heaving  waves.  No  doubt  there  were  gales 
of  wind  with  rain,  lashing  hail,  flying  spindrift,  and 
boiling  spume. 

For  untold  thousands  of  years  the  old  waters  rolled 
untenanted,  breaking  on  the  islands  and  continents  of 
those  early  days,  washing  them  slowly  away,  and  de- 
positing the  mud  and  ooze  far  away  from  shore  in  its 
secret  depths.  If  you  should  wish  to  realise  the 
enormous  duration  of  this  the  earliest  of  geological 
periods,  you  have  only  to  look  upward  at  one  of  the 
great  cliffs  of  Norway  in  which  the  lines  of  rock,  which 
were  once  sediment,  lie  piled  one  upon  the  other  for 
thousands  of  feet.  These  tell  the  long  monotonous 
story  of  the  eternal  ocean  slowly  but  surely  washing 
away  the  dry  land  and  storing  up  the  silt,  sand,  and 
gravel  in  its  bosom. 

After  ages  the  first  simple  forms  of  living  creatures 
begin  to  appear  in  the  soft  mud.  Possibly,  only  little 


EOZOON  269 

lumps  of  jelly  like  the  protoplasmic  atomic  globule  that 
Phoo  Bah  was  so  proud  of  being  descended  from.  Or 
perhaps  they  were  radiobes  like  those  discovered  by 
Mr.  Burke.  If  that  is  the  case,  they  did  not  die 
bachelors  like  those  that  appeared  in  his  bouillon,  but 
had  large  families  and  multiplied  exceedingly.  Eozoon 
is  the  name  given  by  learned  men  to  a  shadowy  sort  of 
foraminifera  supposed  to  have  grown  in  thick  sheets 
over  the  ancient  sea-bottom  that  once  spread  far  and 
wide  where  the  land  of  Norway  now  is. 

The  water  slowly  became  more  shallow,  beds  of  sand 
and  gravel  were  laid  down  over  the  old  ooze,  and  strange 
animals  began  to  be  evolved,  simple  in  structure,  but 
now  known  by  terrible  Greek  and  Latin  names.  These 
were  Dictyonema  Nornegicum,  annelides  (a  sort  of  worm), 
brachiopods !  corals !  crenoids !  and  sponges.  Then 
came  seventy-seven  sorts  of  primordial  king  crabs  called 
trilobites.  One  of  these  has  been  given  the  name  of 
paradoxides.  On  land  there  were  twelve  species  of 
plants,  chiefly  fucoids,  but  including  some  of  higher 
grade  called  Eophyton,  and  all  these  went  on  flourishing 
through  the  long  years,  some  few  of  them  leaving  traces 
in  the  mud  and  sand  which  afterwards  hardened  into 
solid  rock. 

By  degrees  an  alteration  came.  Some  of  the  old 
creatures  died  put,  or  very  slowly  changed  into  new 
shapes,  and  the  period  called  Silurian  brought  other 
forms  of  life.  Stone  lilies,  encrinites,  starfish,  and 
lamellibranchs,  but  there  were  trilobites  in  great  pro- 
fusion still.  Gradually  the  high  mountains  of  the  chain 
which  stretches  from  the  Naze  to  the  North  Cape  were 
forced  up  into  ridges  and  peaks,  as  our  solid  world  cooled 
and  shrunk.  Granite  and  syenitic  rocks  pushed  through 
the  old  sea-bottom,  and  besides  these  changes  great 


270  THE  DEVONIAN  AGE 

volcanoes  were  pouring  thick  lava  streams  and  throwing 
showers  of  ashes.  Dykes  and  great  cracks  in  the  earth 
were  filled  up  with  molten  rock,  and  as  the  world  still 
went  on  shrinking,  the  hard  rocks  of  the  earlier  periods 
were  crumpled  and  thrust  into  all  sorts  of  contortions. 
Strange  jagged  peaks  were  forced  up  taking  the  most 
wild  and  awful  shapes. 

Here  is  Sir  Archibald  Geikie's  description : — 
"  Enormous  slices  of  the  older  rocks  have  been  pushed 
horizontally  over  the  top  of  much  younger  formations. 
In  the  country  lying  to  the  south-east  of  the  mountain 
Sulitelma,  Mr.  P.  T.  Holmquist  has  mapped  an  im- 
portant thrust  plane  over  an  area  of  nearly  forty  Swedish 
miles.  It  is  so  gently  inclined  that  its  outcrop  winds 
up  the  valleys,  and  portions  of  the  thrust  rocks  have 
been  left  by  denudation  as  outliers.  The  effect  of  the 
dislocation  is  to  place  a  series  of  mica-schists  and 
granulitic  quartzites  (so-called  Algonkian)  above  some 
of  the  oldest  Cambrian  strata  which  lie  immediately  on 
the  Archaean  gneiss  and  granite.  If  you  arrange  two 
packs  of  cards  with  all  the  aces,  kings,  and  queens  at  the 
bottom  to  represent  the  older  formations,  and  the  lesser 
cards  at  the  top  to  stand  for  the  newer,  you  can  by 
squeezing  the  packs  together  make  the  court  cards 
override  the  commoners,  and  this  will  illustrate  what 
took  place  in  the  mountains  of  Norway  during  Devonian 
times  millions  of  years  ago." 

I  daresay  the  whole  face  of  the  country  was  rather 
rough  in  those  old  days,  but  the  weather  has  been  acting 
on  it  ever  since.  The  sun  has  scorched,  the  frost  has 
split  and  chipped,  great  icefields,  and  glaciers  have 
ground,  and  smoothed,  and  polished,  and  scratched 
rounding  mountain  tops,  and  scouped  out  valleys  and 
fjords.  The  ganoid  fishes  which  swam  in  these  old 


TRIASSIC  AND  JURASSIC  TIMES          271 

waters  have  left  scales,  teeth,  and  bones  which  give  us 
a  notion  as  to  what  sort  of  creatures  existed  in  the 
Devonian  sea. 

Time  went  on,  and  after  the  Old  Red  Sandstone  came 
the  Carboniferous  period.  There  is  only  one  small 
island — Andoen — in  Norway  which  shows  any  trace  of 
the  great  forests  of  tree-ferns,  conifers,  and  giant  horse- 
tails which  flourished  for  so  long  in  what  is  now  England, 
France,  and  Germany.  We  may  suppose  that  Norway 
stood  up  a  tableland  too  high  or  too  bleak  for  such  a 
growth. 

The  Trias  and  the  Jurassic  times  also  came  and  passed 
away.  All  sorts  of  new  creatures  were  evolved.  Great 
lizards  with  fish-like  flippers,  Plesiosaurus,  long-necked 
and  fierce,  Megalosaurus,  and  other  dreadful  monsters 
filled  the  seas  of  the  south.  But  there  is  no  sign  of 
them  among  the  Norwegian  mountains,  though  the 
lias  of  England  shows  their  bones  in  great  numbers. 
The  rains  of  these  days  continued  to  wear  down  and 
furrow  the  softer  parts  of  the  Norse  rocks ;  valleys 
were  slowly  eroded  and  mountain  ridges  splintered  and 
sharpened.  The  age  of  Pleiosau  and  Iguanodon  followed, 
and  afterwards  came  the  time  when  the  chalk  slowly 
formed  at  the  bottom  of  the  open  sea. 

Then,  in  Eocene  times,  the  last  great  epoch  of 
mountain-making  took  place,  and  the  Alps  as  we  now 
know  them  were  forced  up  and  crumpled,  flat  sediments 
becoming  huge  mountain  masses. 

The  Miocene  and  Pliocene,  like  the  other  ages, 
left  the  Norway  rocks  still  standing  high  to  the 
wear  and  chafe  of  rain,  hail,  and  scorching  sun. 
But  the  great  Ice  Age,  which  followed  after,  buried 
the  whole  country  under  6000  or  7000  feet  of  solid 
glacier.  Only  the  peaks  of  the  highest  mountains  stood 


272  THE  ICE  AGE 

like  islands  in  the  tremendous  dome  of  solid  frozen 
snow. 

The  enormous  weight  of  the  inland  ice  forced  the 
surrounding  glaciers  outward  in  all  directions.  To 
understand  how  the  dais  and  fjords  were  carved  and 
worn  out  of  the  living  rock,  we  must  try  to  realise 
what  was  taking  place  all  through  this  dreary  period. 
Every  scrap  of  ice  was  on  the  move.  In  every  little 
valley,  even  in  minute  crannies  between  the  rocky 
walls,  the  ice  was  creeping,  faster  in  the  middle,  slower 
at  the  sides.  Everything  in  its  way  was  either 
pushed  along  with  the  moving  mass,  or  was  slowly 
worn  away,  the  hardest  stone  being  scratched  and 
polished. 

Wherever  the  rain  of  old  days  had  worn  a  chasm,  the 
ice,  with  its  moving  granite  boulders,  rubbed  and  scored 
it  deeper  and  wider.  The  under  ice  only  pushed  its 
way  down  the  dais  just  as  we  see  the  shrunken  glaciers 
of  the  present  day.  The  eddies  and  backwaters  in 
these  races  of  tide  made  cataracts  tumbling  over  steep 
cliffs  or  squeezing  between  narrow  gorges.  But  this 
lower  ice  river  was  generally  covered  by  another  flow, 
pushing  in  quite  another  direction,  sometimes  even  at 
right  angles,  so  that,  whilst  the  valley  was  being  scored 
and  planed  in  the  direction  of  its  windings,  the  peaks 
were  grooved  athwart  the  flow  of  the  undercurrent  by 
quite  another  stream.  The  force  of  the  ice  cap,  and 
the  distance  it  pushed  great  rocks  and  stones,  seem 
almost  incredible.  At  Laurvik  there  is  a  kind  of 
syenite  which  is  quite  characteristic.  Boulders  of  this 
very  stone  have  been  carried  as  far  as  Hamburg,  right 
across  Denmark,  and  even  to  Holderness  in  Yorkshire. 
Try  to  fancy  the  North  Sea  all  packed  with  great 
icebergs  breaking  away  from  the  giant  glaciers  of 


DEEP  FJORDS  273 

Norway  and  drifting  over  to  the  country  which  we 
now  call  England. 

The  fjords,  in  some  places  5000  feet  deep,  and  the 
basins  of  great  lakes,  were  hollowed  in  the  same  way, 
the  detritus  being  carried  hundreds  of  miles.  All 
round  the  west  coast  of  Norway  there  is  to  this  day  a 
long  ridge  of  stone  and  gravel  under  the  sea,  a  short 
distance  from  land.  This  is  nothing  but  a  line  of 
moraine,  where  the  old  glaciers  terminated  in  tall  ice 
cliffs  like  those  of  Greenland  or  Spitzbergen.  Indeed, 
the  ice  cap  of  north-east  land,  or  the  glaciers  behind 
Prince  Charles'  foreland  give  us  a  very  vivid  picture 
of  the  appearance  presented  by  Norway  during  the 
great  Ice  Age. 

Some  of  the  fjords  have  been  worn  to  very  great 
lengths  and  depths.  Sogne  Fjord,  136  miles  long, 
is  4000  feet  deep  in  places,  and  the  telegraph  cable 
which  is  laid  across  the  Fjaerlands  Fjord  hangs  in  a 
great  bight,  instead  of  resting  on  the  rocks  below. 
The  moving  ice  has  in  almost  all  cases  rubbed  the 
bottom  flat  with  rounded  sides,  so  that  a  section  of 
the  usual  fjord  is  in  the  form  of  a  great  U.  The 
pudding-like,  smooth  rocks  called  roches  moutonnees  in 
the  Alps  are  common  all  over  Norway.  Often  these 
give  a  very  desolate  and  forbidding  look  to  the  scenery ; 
not  a  blade  of  grass  or  sprig  of  birch  is  able  to  find 
a  foothold  in  the  polished  surface;  and  the  undula- 
tions stretch  unbroken  over  many  thousand  acres. 

Besides  the  great  terminal  moraine  which  underlies 
the  sea  all  round  the  coast  of  Norway,  the  glaciers 
have  dropped  sand,  gravel,  and  boulders  in  all  sorts 
of  situations.  In  some  valleys  one  may  meet  rows  of 
regular  terraces,  neatly  sloping  ridge  behind  ridge,  for 
all  the  world  hike  the  fieldworks  of  some  army  of 
18 


274  NEOLITHIC  MAN 

giants.  Often  the  sand  is  piled  up  into  what  in  any 
other  country  might  be  called  a  respectable  hill;  and 
where  the  streams  have  washed  away  the  foot,  forming 
a  cliff,  one  may  notice  the  layers  of  deposition  cutting 
in  straight  lines  through  the  mass. 

Then  again,  among  countless  clusters  of  rocky  islands 
studded  round  the  coasts,  one  may  often  find  a  ridge  of 
shingle  stretching  right  out  as  though  a  Titan  had  tried 
to  throw  a  dam  across  the  lake  or  fjord.  In  fact,  there 
is  not  a  valley  in  all  Scandinavia  which  does  not  show 
traces  of  the  tremendous  forces  at  work  during  this 
long  and  dreary  period. 

There  were  men  in  those  inclement  days,  for  rude, 
stone  weapons  have  been  found  in  the  caves  they  in- 
habited, in  company  with  the  bones  of  reindeer,  bear, 
and  woolly  rhinoceros.  Indeed,  the  cavemen  of  the 
mountains  of  Auvergne  have  actually  drawn  pictures  of 
the  mammoth  with  his  great  curved  tusks  and  long 
bristles.  These  have  come  down  to  our  time,  to  show 
us  how  much  the  artist  of  that  distant  past  could  do 
merely  by  scraping  his  bit  of  ivory  with  a  sharp  stone. 
In  the  late  Stone  Age,  Norway  must  have  had  a  settled 
population,  for  the  places  where  the  old  weapons  were 
hammered  and  chipped  into  shape  have  been  discovered. 
All  along  the  coast,  even  far  beyond  the  Arctic  Circle, 
the  great  mass  of  flakes,  and  fragments  of  hard  stone, 
and  the  numbers  of  finished  and  unfinished  tools  and 
scrapers,  show  that  quite  a  wholesale  manufacture  was 
carried  on. 

It  seems  probable  that  Neolithic  man  in  Norway  lived 
mostly  by  hunting  and  fishing,  though  in  the  south,  across 
the  sea,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  cattle-breeding  was 
also  carried  on.  The  stone  weapons  are  in  many  cases 
quite  beautiful  in  shape,  and  clearly  show  what  skilful 


EARLY  WORKMANSHIP  275 

workmen  must  have  fashioned  these  flakes  from  the 
pebbles  of  flint  sandstone  or  eruptive  rock.  In  high 
latitudes  another  group  of  stone  implements  has  been 
found.  They  are  almost  always  of  slate,  and  are  also 
remarkable  for  their  characteristic  shape.  The  only 
kitchen  midden  from  the  Stone  Age,  yet  found  in 
Norway,  only  contained  these  so-called  arctic  stone 
implements.  It  is  thought  that  these  were  the  work 
of  a  different  race,  perhaps  the  forefathers  of  the 
Lapps.  Indeed,  the  Lapps  continued  to  use  stone 
weapons  down  to  quite  historic  times. 

Leaving  these,  we  come  to  the  Vikings,  whose  weapons, 
found  with  their  peculiar  northern  ornamentation  and 
superb  ring  coats-of-mail,  show  the  skill  of  the  people  in 
working  iron.  A  great  many  of  their  early  swords, 
and  other  weapons,  were  damascened,  even  as  far  back 
as  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era.  This  shows 
either  that  this  art  was  practised  in  the  north  long 
before  its  introduction  into  the  rest  of  Europe  from 
Damascus  by  the  Crusaders,  or,  that  the  Norsemen 
were  so  far  advanced  as  to  be  able  to  appreciate  the 
artistic  manufactures  of  southern  nations. 

The  remnant  of  articles  of  clothing,  with  graceful 
patterns  interwoven  with  threads  of  gold  and  silver, 
which  have  fortunately  escaped  entire  destruction,  show 
the  existence  of  great  skill  in  weaving.  Entire  suits 
of  wearing  apparel  remain  to  tell  us  how  some  of  the 
people  dressed  in  the  beginning  of  our  era. 

Beautiful  vessels  of  silver  and  gold  also  testify  to 
the  taste  and  luxury  of  those  early  times.  The  know- 
ledge of  the  art  of  writing  and  of  gilding  is  clearly 
demonstrated.  In  some  cases,  nearly  twenty  centuries 
have  not  been  able  to  tarnish  or  obliterate  the  splendour 
of  the  gilt  jewels  of  the  Northmen.  We  .find  among 


276  JOTNAR  AND  THURSAR 

their  remains,  either  of  their  own  manufacture  or  im- 
ported, perhaps  as  spoils  of  war,  repousse  work  of 
gold  or  silver,  bronze,  silver,  and  woodwork  covered 
with  the  thinnest  sheets  of  gold ;  the  filigree  •  work 
displays  great  skill,  and  some  of  it  could  not  be  sur- 
passed now.  Many  objects  are  ornamented  with  niello, 
and  of  so  thorough  a  northern  pattern  that  they 
are  incontestably  of  home  manufacture.  The  art  of 
enamelling  seems  also  to  have  been  known  to  the 
artificers  of  the  period.  A  splendid  collection  exists 
in  the  Museum  of  Christiania  and  Bergen.  And  should 
anyone  bent  on  visiting  Norway  first  read  and  study 
Du  Chaillu's  Viking  Age^  he  would  find  his  interest 
in  the  country  quadrupled. 

One  may  fancy  how,  in  very  early  days,  tales  were 
told  over  the  fire,  during  the  long  winter  nights. 
Dreadful  stories  exist  of  the  Jotnar,  who  lived  in  the 
frost  and  snow,  the  giants,  and  the  Thursar,  or 
monsters.  Some  personified  the  most  inimical  of  the 
forces  of  nature.  Others,  the  world  before  it  was 
formed — a  chaos.  They  were  older  than  the  gods — 
these  giants.  The  chief  god,  Odin,  seems  to  have  been 
much  like  Woden — the  German  All  Father.  Many 
were  the  tales  of  his  son  Thor,  the  special  god  of  the 
Norsemen,  who  made  war  upon  the  Jotnar  with  his 
terrible  hammer — Mjolnir  the  crusher,  otherwise  the 
thunderbolt.  There  were  tales  of  Aasgard,  the  fortified 
city  of  the  gods,  where  was  the  special  home  of  all 
heroes, — Valholl.  Odin  would  ride  through  the  air 
on  his  eight-footed  steed  Sleipnir  the  swift.  His  escort 
of  maidens,  on  their  white  bare-backed  horses,  would  hurry 
to  the  battle  to  choose  the  slain. 

"Their  horses  shook  themselves,  and  from  their  manes  fell 
Dew  in  the  deep  dales,  and  on  the  high  hills  hail." 


ICELANDIC  POETS  277 

There  were  besides  these  tales  of  the  gods  and  the 
Valkyrie  many  stories  of  heroes.  Siegfried  of  the 
Nibelungen  legend  is  transplanted  to  Norway  and 
called  Sigurd.  The  Volsung  Atila  the  Hun,  called 
Etzel  in  German,  in  the  eddas  of  Norway  he  becomes 
Atli. 

Though  songs  were  composed  for  hundreds  of  years 
it  was  not  until  the  Vikings  had  made  settlements  in 
Ireland  and  the  highlands  of  Scotland  that  the  real 
school  of  poetry  arose  among  the  colonists.  Mr. 
Powel  calls  it  "a  magnificent  school  which  ran  its 
course  apart,  and  perished  before  the  thirteenth  century." 
There  were  dramatic  and  didactic  poetry,  dirges  and 
battle  songs,  but  there  was  one  quality  that  the  authors 
ever  aimed  at — melody  of  sound. 

The  Norse  settlers  in  Ireland  also  spread  north  to 
Iceland,  and  even  to  Greenland,  where  the  saga  makes 
its  appearance. 

Mr.  Powel  says  : — "  The  characteristics  of  this  western 
school  are  no  doubt  the  result  of  the  contact  of 
Scandinavian  colonists  of  the  Viking-tide,  living  lives 
of  the  wildest  adventure,  tossed  by  war  and  storm, 
with  an  imaginative  and  civilised  race,  that  exercised 
upon  them  a  very  strong  and  lasting  influence  (the 
effects  of  which  were  also  felt  in  Iceland,  but  in  a 
different  way).  The  frequent  inter- marriages,  which 
mingled  the  best  families  of  either  race,  are  sufficient 
proof  of  the  close  communion  of  Northmen  and  Celts 
in  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries,  while  there  are  in 
the  poems  themselves  traces  of  Celtic  mythology, 
language,  and  manners.  The  first  Icelandic  poets 
were  very  remarkable  men,  of  good  birth  (nearly  always 
too  of  Celtic  blood  on  one  side  at  least).  They  leave 
Iceland  young,  and  attach  themselves  to  the  Kings  and 


278  EDDAS 

Earls  of  the  north,  living  in  their  courts  as  their 
henchmen." 

The  custom  of  having  a  court  poet  was  of  course 
taken  from  the  Irish  or  the  Highlanders,  who  from 
the  very  earliest  days  used  to  listen  to  songs  of  the 
bards.  In  Norway,  about  the  time  of  Erik  Blodoks,  the 
son  of  Harald  Fairhair,  it  was  quite  the  thing  to  have 
a  dark -haired,  turbulent,  adventurous  Celt  hanging  about, 
who  could  dream  wonders,  and  sing  divinely. 

"  The  best  and  earliest  of  the  court  poems  are  written 
in  the  old  eddic  metre  and  spirit,  the  same  as  those 
in  which  the  best  of  the  mythological  poems  are  written," 
says  Mr.  C.  F.  Keary. 

But  the  regular  race  of  court  bards  who  began  in 
the  time  of  King  Haakon  write  in  a  new  metre,  and 
in  a  style  which,  as  the  ages  go  on,  grows  more  and 
more  affected  and  precleux.  At  last  the  scalds  became 
little  more  than  rhyming  chroniclers  of  the  deeds  of 
the  Kings.  But  Hornklof,  Glum  Geirason,  Einar,  and 
Halfred  Vandraedaskald  (called  the  troublesome  bard) 
were  more  distinguished. 

Some  of  the  eddas  give  very  weird  pictures  of  the 
underworld.  Sometimes  some  dead  ancestor  is  summoned 
from  the  funeral  mound  to  answer  to  questions.  The 
hero  Svipdag  (or  the  daybreak)  goes  to  rescue  Menglod, 
a  fair  lady  who  is  guarded  by  a  monster  in  a  hall, 
girt  round  by  flickering  flames.  On  his  way  to  the 
underworld  he  passes  by  the  cairn  of  his  mother,  and 
calls  to  her — 

"Awake  thou,  Groa,  awake,  sweet  lady, 
At  the  door  of  death  I  wake  thee, 
Rememberest  how  thy  son  thou  badest 
Unto  thy  cairn  to  come." 

Then  after   asking   him    why  he  has  called   her  who  is 


SAGAS  279 

come  to  mould  and  is  gone  from  the  world  of  men, 
she  teaches  him  charms  to  keep  him  safe  on  his 
journey. 

Voluspa  is  the  most  tremendous  poem — a  prophecy 
of  the  end  of  all  things.  When  all  living  creatures  on 
earth  have  perished  of  cold,  the  gods  of  Asgaard 
with  the  heroes  of  Valhalla  come  out  to  fight  in  the 
last  great  battle. 

"  Swart  grows  the  sunshine  and  no  summer  after ; 
All  the  winds  are  death-winds." 

Then  the  last  day  dawns.  Egdir  the  grim  sits  on  a 
funeral  mound  striking  his  harp.  Fjalar  the  red  cock 
crows,  and  his  summons  is  answered  by  another  from 
beneath  the  earth,  the  hell-hound  bays  fiercely,  and 
breaks  its  fetters.  Then  the  Jotunheim  roar,  How  is 
it  with  the  ^Esir,  How  with  the  Alfar  ?  and  the  dwarfs 
moan  before  their  stony  doors,  Know  ye  what  that 
betokens?  This  is  the  doomsday  Ragnarok.  Odin 
fights  with  Fenvir  the  hell-hound ;  Thor  fights  with  the 
great  serpent  who  encircles  the  world ;  Frey  fights  the 
fire-god  Surt,  and  at  last  when  all  gods  and  hell-hounds 
have  been  killed,  then  only  the  Death-flame  stalks  un- 
hindered on  the  earth. 

"  The  sun  darkens  ;  the  earth  sinks  into  the  sea. 
From  heaven  fall  the  bright  stars. 
The  fire-wind  storms  round  the  all-nourishing  tree ; 
The  flame  assails  high  heaven  itself." 

Besides  the  eddas,  which  were  in  verse,  there  were 
the  sagas.  These  were  at  first  handed  down  from  father 
to  son  by  word  of  mouth,  for  runes  were  only  used 
for  short  inscriptions,  and  some  of  the  sagas  are  as 


280  AUD,  QUEEN  OF  DUBLIN 

long  as  a  three-volume  novel  at  the  present  day;  like 
the  best  of  the  eddas,  the  sagas  were  produced  by  a 
race  half  Celtic  and  half  Scandinavian. 

About  870  A.D.,  Aud,  Queen  of  Dublin,  who  was  the 
daughter  of  a  Norse  King  in  the  Hebrides,  called  Ketil 
Flatnose,  made  her  way  to  Iceland  with  some  of  her 
granddaughters,  and  at  last  settled  on  a  large  territory. 
The  doings  of  these  early  colonists  and  their  descendants, 
who  were  looked  upon  as  distinguished  persons,  have 
been  handed  down  to  us  in  the  Landnama-bok — "The 
Book  of  the  Settlement.'1 

Mr.  Keary  compares  these  early  travellers  to  the 
Mayflower  emigrants,  or  the  knickerbocker  families,  for 
they  afterwards  formed  a  sort  of  aristocracy  in  the 
island.  Many  other  Irish  and  Highland  settlers  came, 
and  gradually  as  there  grew  up  in  Iceland  a  race  of 
story-tellers,  saga-making  became  an  art.  How  such 
long  stories  could  be  committed  to  memory  alone  is  a 
wonder.  They  are  full  of  minute  details  of  all  the  life 
of  that  distant  day — of  the  work  on  the  farm,  the 
hauling  up  of  the  ship,  the  tending  of  the  herds,  of 
the  forms  to  be  observed  at  the  wooing  of  maidens,  the 
casting  of  spells,  or  the  exposition  of  the  law.  The 
whole  is  wrought  with  a  wealth  of  vivid  picturesqueness 
quite  its  own. 

Holmsnega  Saga — the  adventures  of  a  gang  of  outlaws 
in  Whalesfirth — is  one  of  the  earliest.  Then  there  is 
Honsatores  Saga,  in  which  one  of  two  rivals  burns 
the  other  in  his  own  house.  Vatnsdola  Saga  and 
Vapnfirdhinga  Saga  are  both  stories  of  blood-feuds. 
Indeed,  the  plot  of  most  sagas  turns  upon  either  the 
rivalry  of  two  heroes  for  the  love  of  one  woman,  or  the 
story  of  a  blood-feud  which  is  carried  on  between  two 
families  from  generation  to  generation. 


BURNT  NJAL  281 

Burnt  Njal  is  said  to  be  the  Icelandic  Saga  in  its 
very  finest  development.  It  is  very  long-winded,  and 
begins  with  the  great-grandfathers  and  grandmothers 
of  the  principal  characters;  we  hear  of  the  loves  and 
battles  of  many  uncles  and  cousins,  though  the  author 
is  apt  to  get  rid  of  those  which  are  inconvenient  or 
tiresome  by  saying  suddenly,  "  And  now,  Vigu  (or  Glum, 
or  whoever  the  distant  relation  happens  to  be)  goes  out 
of  our  story."  Gunnar  and  Njal  are  fast  friends,  and 
have  sworn  that  nothing  shall  make  them  quarrel, 
and  this  oath  they  keep  till  death;  though  Hallgerd, 
the  wife  of  Gunnar  (who  by  the  way  is  a  virago  who 
has  got  rid  of  her  first  husband),  is  in  bitter  feud 
with  Bergthora,  the  wife  of  Njal,  and  owing  to  the 
egging  on  of  the  two  women  the  servants  and  herdmen 
of  both  friends  are  waylaid  and  killed  from  time  to 
time.  Whenever  there  is  a  fresh  murder  the  crime  has 
to  be  wiped  out  by  a  forfeit  of  money.  We  have  a 
wonderful  picture  of  this  strange  period,  when  in  spite 
of  the  wholesale  slayings  and  universal  recognition  of 
the  duty  of  revenge,  there  is  side  by  side  a  most  intense 
love  for  law  and  order;  for  all  crimes  have  to  be 
discussed  before  the  Thing  or  local  parliament,  and  there 
the  penalty  is  awarded. 

Hallgerd,  finding  that  she  cannot  stir  up  her  husband 
to  avenge  the  slights  she  supposes  herself  to  have 
received  from  the  family  of  Njal,  at  last  works  on 
Sigmund,  an  Easterling,  who  is  staying  in  the  house,  to 
sing  songs  mocking  the  beardless  carle,  as  she  calls  him, 
for  Njal  has  no  beard.  He  is  reported  to  be  throwing 
dung  over  his  land,  and  Hallgerd  asks  why  he  does 
not  cast  some  over  his  beard.  To  Njal's  sons  she  gives 
the  name  of  dung-beardlings. 

The   song   is  soon  repeated  by  gossips  to  Bergthora, 


282  THE  BEARDLESS  CARLE 

the  wife  of  Njal,  and  when  her  sons  come  into  their 
supper,  she  speaks,  "  Gifts  have  been  given  you,  father 
and  sons,  and  ye  will  be  no  true  men  unless  ye  repay 
them  somehow." 

"  What  gifts  are  these  ?  "  asks  Skarphedinn. 

"  You,  my  sons,"  says  Bergthora,  "  have  got  one  gift 
between  you  all.  You  are  called  '  dung-beardlings,'  but 
my  husband  is  the  '  beardless  carle.' " 

"  Ours  is  no  woman's  nature,"  says  Skarphedinn,  "  that 
we  should  fly  into  a  rage  at  every  little  thing ! " 

"And  yet  Gunnar  was  wroth  for  your  sakes,"  says 
she,  "and  he  is  thought  to  be  good-tempered.  But  if 
ye  do  not  take  vengeance  for  this  wrong,  ye  will  avenge 
no  shame." 

"  The  carline,  our  mother,  thinks  this  fine  sport,"  says 
Skarphedinn,  and  smiled  scornfully  as  he  spoke;  but 
still  the  sweat  burst  out  upon  his  brow  and  red  flecks 
came  over  his  cheeks  (his  ashen  pale  cheeks)  such  as 
was  not  his  wont. 

Grim  was  silent,  and  bit  his  lip.  Helgi  made  no  sign, 
and  he  said  never  a  word.  Hoskuld  went  off  with 
Bergthora. 

She  came  into  the  room  again,  and  fretted  and  fumed 
much. 

Njal  spoke,  and  said,  "  *  Slow  and  sure,1  says  the  proverb, 
mistress ;  and  so  it  is  with  many  things,  though  they 
try  men's  tempers.  There  are  always  two  sides  to  a  story, 
even  when  revenge  is  taken." 

But  at  even,  when  Njal  was  come  into  his  bed,  he 
heard  that  an  axe  came  against  the  panel,  and  rang 
loudly.  And  there  was  another  shut  bed,  and  there 
the  shields  were  hung  up  ;  and  he  sees  that  they 
are  away.  He  said,  "Who  have  taken  down  our 
shields  ?  " 


BERGTHORA'S  AVENGERS  283 

"  Thy  sons  went  out  with  them,"  says  Bergthora. 

Njal  pulled  his  shoes  on  his  feet  and  went  out  at  once, 
and  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  house,  and  seeing 
that  they  are  taking  their  course  right  up  the  slope,  he 
said,  "  Whither  away,  Skarphedinn  ?  " 

"  To  look  after  thy  sheep,"  he  answers. 

"  You  would  not  then  be  armed,"  said  Njal,  "  if 
you  meant  that,  and  your  errand  must  be  something 
else." 

Then  Skarphedinn  said,  "  We  shall  fish  for  salmon, 
father." 

"Twould  be  well,  then,  if  it  turned  out  so  that  the 
prey  does  not  get  away  from  you." 

They  went  their  way,  but  Njal  went  to  his  bed,  and 
he  said  to  Bergthora,  "Thy  sons  were  out  of  doors, 
all  of  them  with  arms,  and  now  thou  must  have  egged 
them  on  to  something  ! " 

"  I  will  give  them  my  heartfelt  thanks,"  said  Bergthora, 
"  if  they  tell  me  the  slaying  of  Sigmund." 

Now  Njal's  sons  went  up  to  Fleetlith,  and  were  that 
night  under  the  lith,  and  when  the  day  began  they 
came  near  to  Lithend.  That  same  morning  Sigmund 
and  Skiolld  rose  up  and  meant  to  go  to  the  stud-horses ; 
they  had  bridles  with  them,  and  caught  the  horses  that 
were  in  the  farmyard,  and  rode  away  on  them.  They 
found  the  horses  between  two  brooks.  Skarphedinn 
caught  sight  of  them,  for  Sigmund  was  hi  bright 
clothing. 

Skarphedinn  said,  "See  you  now  the  red  elf  yonder, 
lads?" 

They  looked  that  way  and  said  they  saw  him. 

Skarphedinn  spoke  again.  "Thou,  Hoskuld,  shall 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  for  thou  wilt  often  be  sent 
out  alone  without  due  need.  But  I  mean  Sigmund  for 


284  SIGMUND 

myself ;  methinks  that  is  like  a  man ;  but  Grim  and  Helgi 
shall  try  to  slay  Skiolld." 

Hoskuld  sat  him  down,  but  they  went  till  they  came 
up  to  them.  Skarphedinn  said  to  Sigmund,  "Take  thy 
weapons  and  defend  thyself;  that  is  more  needful  now 
than  to  make  mocking  songs  on  me  and  my  brothers." 

Sigmund  took  up  his  weapons ;  but  Skarphedinn 
waited  the  while.  Skiolld  turned  against  Grim  and 
Helgi,  and  they  fell  hotly  to  fight.  Sigmund  had  a  helm 
on  his  head,  and  a  shield  at  his  side,  and  was  girt  with 
a  sword.  His  spear  was  in  his  hand.  Now  he  turns 
against  Skarphedinn  and  thrusts  at  once  at  him  with  his 
spear,  and  the  thrust  came  on  his  shield.  Skarphedinn 
dashes  the  spearhaft  in  two,  and  lifts  up  his  axe,  and 
hews  at  Sigmund,  and  cleaves  his  shield  down  to  below 
the  handle.  Sigmund  drew  his  sword  and  cut  at 
Skarphedinn,  and  the  sword  cut  into  his  shield,  so  that 
it  stuck  fast.  Skarphedinn  gave  the  shield  such  a  quick 
twist  that  Sigmund  let  go  his  sword.  Then  Skarphedinn 
hews  at  Sigmund  with  his  axe  the  "  Ogress  of  War." 
Sigmund  had  on  a  corselet.  The  axe  came  on  his 
shoulder.  Skarphedinn  cleft  the  shoulder-blade  right 
through,  and  at  the  same  time  pulled  the  axe  towards 
him.  Sigmund  fell  down  upon  his  knees,  but  sprang  up 
again  at  once. 

"Thou  hast  lifted  low  to  me  already,"  says 
Skarphedinn;  "but  still  thou  shalt  fall  upon  thy 
mother's  bosom  ere  we  two  part." 

"  111  is  that,  then,"  says  Sigmund. 

Skarphedinn  gave  him  a  blow  on  the  helm,  and  after 
that  dealt  Sigmund  his  death-blow.  Grim  cut  off 
Skiolld's  foot  at  the  ankle-joint;  but  Helgi  thrust 
him  through  with  his  spear,  and  he  got  his  death  there 
and  then.  Skarphedinn  saw  Hallgerd's  shepherd,  just 


SKARPHEDINN  SINGS  A  MOCKING  SONG    285 

as  he  had  hewn  off  Sigmund's  head.  He  handed  the 
head  to  the  shepherd,  and  bade  him  bear  it  to  Hallgerd, 
and  said  she  would  know  whether  that  head  had  made 
jeering  songs  about  them,  and  with  that  he  sang  a 
mocking  song  on  Hallgerd. 


CHAPTER   XV 

SPITZBERGEN 

IT  would  be  in  vain  to  attempt  to  convey  in  words  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  land-locked  bay 
in  which  we  found  ourselves,  after  the  two  long  days  at 
sea.  This  arctic  summer  with  its  life  of  four  months1 
continual  daylight  like  some  eastern  fairy  tale,  set  in  a 
solitude  in  which  all  impressions  become  lasting.  The 
weird  spike-headed  mountain-tops  are  dimly  seen  through 
the  mists  that  slowly  loose  asunder,  discovering  peak 
after  peak  clothed  with  ice  fronds  to  their  summits. 
Each  being  hollowed  out  on  the  northern  side,  the  basin 
thus  made  becomes  filled  with  snow.  The  mountains 
follow  one  behind  the  other  a  succession  of  great 
solidified  waves. 

The  sparkling  east  glacier  is  some  three  miles  wide. 
The  highest  points  of  the  mountains  being  thrust  through 
its  surface  like  islands  in  a  sea  of  ice  ;  range  after  range 
rolling  on,  all  of  the  same  formation.  Every  now  and 
then  a  report  is  heard  echoing  over  the  bay,  as  huge 
pieces  of  ice  break  off  and  fall  into  the  water,  leaving 
a  patch  of  the  purest  green  and  blue  on  the  wall-like 
face,  the  detached  portions  floating  away  in  weird 
graceful  shapes.  On  the  south,  the  flower-strewn  beach 
leads  up  to  steep  hills  of  shale,  divided  by  a  stream  from 
the  big  moraine,  pushed  in  front  of  the  Fox  glacier. 
Towards  the  west,  Bell  Mount  and  the  placid  waters  of 

286 


SPITZBERGEN  287 

Bell  Sound  sparkle  and  scintillate  in  the  cold,  bright 
sunlight.  The  air  like  that  of  Switzerland  in  winter  is 
rarefied  and  keen. 

Spitzbergen,  this  snow-clad  cluster  of  islands,  lost  in 
the  solitudes  of  the  Arctic  Ocean,  is  400  miles  away  from 
the  most  northern  point  of  Norway.  It  was  nevertheless 
well  known  for  at  least  four  centuries  to  whalers  and 
seal  hunters.  It  is  interesting  to  the  whole  of  Europe, 
on  account  of  the  scientific  expeditions  for  which  it  has 
been  selected  as  a  base  for  attempts  to  reach  the  North 
Pole.  Here  it  was  that  Parry  started  in  1827  on  the 
sledge  journey  which  brought  him  to  within  480  miles 
of  the  Pole ;  this  the  starting-point,  too,  of  the  investiga- 
tions which  led  Charles  Martins  to  his  brilliant  generalisa- 
tions of  the  Flora,  present  and  past,  of  the  earth. 

Spitzbergen  really  consists  of  six  large  and  a  great 
number  of  smaller  islands.  The  biggest,  West  Spitz- 
bergen, is  shaped  like  a  wedge  pointing  to  the  south, 
and  is  deeply  indented  by  long  branching  fjords.  If 
those  who  take  an  interest  in  charts  will  look,  they  will 
find  that  high  mountains  some  4560  feet  above  the  sea 
on  the  Horn  Sound  cover  its  southern  parts,  while  a  wide 
plateau,  covered  by  a  thick  ice-sheet,  occupies  the  north. 
Several  fjords,  Horn  Sound,  Bell  Sound,  Ice  Fjord  (15 
miles  wide  and  80  long),  the  double  fjords  of  King's  Bay 
and  Cross  Bay  on  the  west,  and  the  Liefde,  Wiide,  and 
Lomune  Bays  on  the  north,  penetrate  the  island. 

One  of  the  ramifications  of  Dickson  Bay,  in  the 
beautiful  Ice  Fjord,  nearly  reaches  the  head  of  the  West 
Fjord  in  Wiide  Bay,  almost  dividing  the  island.  A  long 
narrow  island,  called  Prince  Charles's  Foreland,  with 
peaks  rising  to  nearly  5000  feet  high,  runs  parallel  to 
a  portion  of  the  west  coast  of  West  Spitzbergen,  from 
which  it  is  separated  by  the  barred  channel  of  the 


288       THE  LIFE-GIVING  GULF  STREAM 

Foreland  Sound.  The  broad  Stor  Fjord,  or  Wybe  Jansz 
water,  separates  the  main  island  from  the  others  to  the 
east,  namely,  Edge  Island  and  Barents.  A  few  bare 
peaks  protrude  above  the  snow  and  ice  with  which  the 
mountains  are  covered. 

On  the  north-east  of  Spitzbergen  lies  the  Island  of 
North  Eastland,  round  which  on  the  eastern  and  southern 
side  runs  a  dotted  line,  showing  that  this  inhospitable 
part  of  No  Man's  Land  has  never  been  explored.  The  last 
name  to  the  north  is  Cape  Leigh  Smith,  and  on  the  south 
Cape  Mohn.  This  island  appears  like  a  large  plateau 
covered  by  an  ice  sheet  2000  to  3000  feet  in  thickness. 
This  slowly  moves  towards  the  east  and  discharges  into 
the  sea  by  a  huge  ice  wall  some  150  miles  long,  forming 
the  broadest  glacier  known. 

It  makes  one  think  what  a  woeful  place  Northern 
Europe  would  be  without  the  Gulf  Stream.  Up  here 
after  washing  the  shores  of  Norway  and  sending  a  branch 
to  the  east,  the  life-giving  Gulf  Stream  flows  to  the 
western  shores  of  Spitzbergen,  leaving  an  open  passage 
which  permits  the  whaler  to  approach  the  coast  even 
under  the  most  unfavourable  conditions  of  ice  in  the 
Arctic  regions.  Driftwood  brought  from  lower  latitudes, 
glass-floats  of  Norwegian  fishermen,  and  even  the  large 
seeds  of  the  Eutada  glgalob'mm  carried  by  the  Gulf 
Stream  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  are  found  at  the  northern 
extremity  of  Spitzbergen.  Spring  comes  in  June,  and  by 
the  end  of  the  month  the  thermometer  has  ceased  to  sink 
below  the  freezing  point  at  night.  July,  August,  and 
September  are  the  best  months.  In  September,  autumn 
sets  in  on  shore,  though  the  whalers  continue  cruising 
until  the  end  of  the  month,  and  even  reach  the  highest 
latitudes.  Then  all  is  dark,  and  the  glacier  goddess 
resumes  her  sway. 


THE  PHANTOM  SHIP  289 

On  the  8th  July  started  the  steamship  lie  de  France, 
the  passengers  embarking  at  Dunkerque  for  a  "  croisiere 
dans  le  monde  polaire."  The  cover  of  the  itinerary  was 
decorated  with  a  white  bear  holding  a  placard  describing 
the  most  exciting  events  that  might  be  expected  during 
the  voyage  of  thirty  days.  In  the  background  were 
prowling  bears  stalking  the  roasting  meats  with  out- 
stretched paws,  and  lolling  tongues ;  behind  glimmered 
the  glacier  peaks.  There  were  varied  hunts.  The  prey 
was  to  consist  of  whales,  reindeer,  "au  lagopede  des 
Neiges,"  "  aux  petits  echassiers  et  aux  grands  palimpedes 
de  Tocean  boreal.""  Eider,  bernache  goose,  arctic  petrels, 
pigeons,  cormorants,  the  scarce  blue  fox,  and  great  seals 
of  the  ice-pack. 

"  Chasseresses  ou  non,"  the  ladies  were  specially  invited 
to  take  this  cruise,  for  only  on  board  this  lie  de  France 
would  it  be  possible  to  make  a  voyage  to  Spitzbergen 
and  the  ice-pack  with  the  amount  of  comfort  that  they 
very  legitimately  claimed.  A  very  interesting  cruise  it 
must  have  been,  and  delightful  too,  to  have  Professor 
Nordenskjold  as  director  of  the  scientific  part  of  the 
voyage. 

\Vherever  the  Vectis  steamed,  the  Ik  de  France  had 
just  left.  Her  name  in  giant  letters  of  white  was  painted 
on  the  cliffs  of  the  Naero  Fjord.  In  Recherche  Bay  we 
inquired  of  the  sailors  on  board  the  whalers,  Had  the 
lie  de  France  been  there  ?  Had  the  passengers  shot  any 
bears  ?  "  Yes,"  was  the  answer  to  the  first  question ; 
"No,"  to  the  second.  Had  they  caught  any  foxes? 
"No."  It  was  not  the  season  for  either  the  one  or 
the  other. 

We  landed  and  scaled  the  loose  side  of  the  moraine  of 
the  Fox  Glacier.  Nearing  the  top  we  were  soon  over- 
looking the  long  stretch  of  a  partly  melted  surface  of 
19 


290  THE  HARDY  HUNTER 

sodden  brown  half-frozen  ice,  seamed  by  great  cracks 
which  extended  in  all  directions  over  the  surface,  a 
perfect  picture  of  a  desolation  where  foot  of  man  has  never 
trod.  Something  glittered  among  the  stones :  the  brass 
head  of  a  new  cartridge,  a  real  trace  of  the  phantom 
ship  and  its  hardy  hunters.  Had  this  particular  sports- 
man sat  there  long  in  his  thick  cloak  with  its  pointed 
hood  ?  Had  he  been  well  armed  ?  Was  he  alone  ?  Did 
he,  as  I  did,  feel  a  little  afraid  and  constantly  look  over 
his  shoulder,  expecting  the  bear,  that  might  be  hungry 
even  in  summer  when  during  this  perpetual  day  it  is 
so  difficult  to  remember  how  long  ago  the  dinner  had 
been,  and  how  soon  breakfast  might  be  due  ?  Yes,  here 
was  one  cartridge,  and  a  little  farther  on  another,  with 
the  mystic  words,  "Cartouche  pour  poudres  au  bois 
pyroseyle  sans  long  feu  Ste  Fse  des  munitions,  Paris." 
I  have  my  trophy  in  company  of  many  scraps  of  Jurassic 
stone,  mosses,  flowers,  and  slips  of  whalebone,  to  which 
I  have  since  added  a  short  cutting  from  a  Norwegian 
newspaper : — 

"  The  great  tourist  steamer  Isle  de  France  has  returned 
to  Tromso  from  Spitzbergen.  Outside  Red  Bay,  on  the 
northern  corner  of  the  island,  the  steamer  ran  aground 
on  a  hidden  shoal  at  a  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour. 
After  twenty-four  hours1  waiting,  a  little  Norwegian 
steamer  Express  arrived,  and  was  despatched  with  a 
message  to  the  Dutch  cruiser  Friesland,  which  was  lying 
in  Widje  Bay.  Friesland  arrived  next  day,  and  succeeded 
in  drawing  the  steamer  off  the  shoal.  The  passengers 
showed  their  gratitude  by  a  collection  on  board,  which 
brought  in  13,000  francs  for  distribution  among  the 
FrieslantTs  crew." 

Yes,  certainly,  these  passengers  had  braved  all  risks ! 

The   carcasses   of    whales    denuded   of  their   blubber, 


H.M.S.  CALYPSO  291 

and  all  that  can  be  made  use  of,  lie  stranded  at  the  edge 
of  the  tide,  emitting  a  horrible,  choking  smell.  Lucky 
is  the  man  or  woman  who  has  cigarettes  or  tobacco  to 
smoke,  or  chocolate  to  eat,  anything  to  palliate  the 
offensive  odour. 

Up  the  slope  are  the  graves  of  the  unfortunate  fellows 
who  have  died  on  the  whalers,  and  lie  buried  on  this  in- 
hospitable coast.  There  are  two  lank,  worn  wood  crosses, 
renewed  by  the  men  of  H.M.S.  Calypso  in  1895.  The 
scant  moss  and  debris  of  grey  loose  planks  lie  about 
amongst  big  scattered  stones,  as  if  the  forces  of  nature, 
or  perhaps  more  likely  the  polar  bears,  had  tried  to 
disturb  the  resting-place  of  these  poor  bones. 

From  a  short  distance  away  the  land  looks  barren,  as 
though  no  flowers  existed,  but  a  few  steps  up  the  grey 
pebble  beach  the  foot  sinks  into  a  springy  moss  that 
covers  the  foreshore  in  rings  some  five  feet  across.  In 
winter  the  snow  lies  in  innumerable  mounds,  which  on 
the  approach  of  summer  naturally  first  melt  round  the 
rim,  where  flowers  immediately  spring  up.  The  central 
portion  of  the  snow  mound  not  melting  till  late  in  the 
summer  season,  leaves  behind  a  bare,  barren,  circular 
patch,  bleached  and  grey  like  the  ashes  of  a  dead  fire. 
These  barren  circles  enclosed  by  the  polar  vegetation 
looked  on  as  a  whole  have  a  most  peculiar  effect,  and  one 
to  be  seen  nowhere  else. 

During  a  walk  of  a  few  hours  some  twenty  different 
species  of  plants  were  collected  by  one  of  the  passengers, 
all  blooming  and  making  the  most  of  their  short  summer. 
The  prettiest,  I  think,  was  Dryas  octopetala,  with  its 
cream-coloured  fleshy  leaves  and  brilliant  yellow  centre, 
which  strewed  the  shore  plentifully.  Every  here  and 
there  small  stunted  tufts  of  yellow  or  white  Iceland 
poppies  grew.  Great  cushions  of  saxifraga,  thickly  starred 


292  FAMINE  BREAD 

with  crimson  blossom,  produced  a  purple  tint  visible 
from  a  long  way  off.  Others  of  the  same  family  had  pale 
pink  petals,  deep  crimson  centre,  and  large  corolla.  There 
were  more  of  the  same  tribe  common  to  similar  situations, 
flowers  nearly  sessile  grew  on  low  dense  tufts  of  radical 
leaves ;  also  saxifraga  five  to  six  inches  in  height,  sturdy 
with  thick  stems  and  greenish  flowers  in  a  compact 
spike,  in  company  of  a  little  delicate  white  flower  with 
petals  like  our  English  milk-wort.  The  leaves  of  the 
latter  are  a  pale  green,  and  very  close  together,  and 
the  flower  has  an  exceedingly  sweet  smell.  Silene  acantis 
and  Moss  campion  were  abundant,  also  Oxyria  renl- 
fermis. 

The  bard  who  sang  of  "  hanging  his  harp  on  a  willow 
tree11  would  have  been  nonplussed  could  he  have  seen 
these  little  polar  mites.  The  only  tree  in  Spitzbergen 
is  a  willow.  It  is  not  more  than  two  inches  high,  with 
but  a  few  tiny  leaves.  On  the  higher  slopes,  1500  feet 
above  the  sea,  the  poppies  Luzula  hyperborea  and  Stellaria 
Edwardsli  are  occasionally  met  with.  Mosses,  mostly 
European  acquaintances,  cover  all  places  where  peat  has 
accumulated.  The  slopes  of  the  crags  and  the  blocks  of 
stone  on  the  beach  are  sometimes  entirely  covered  with 
a  luxuriant  moss  and  lichen  vegetation,  among  the  last 
being  the  so-called  "  famine  bread,"  Umbilicaria  arctica, 
which  has  maintained  the  life  of  so  many  arctic  travellers. 

Flowering  plants  are  represented  by  as  many  as 
ninety-six  species,  of  which  eighty-one  grew  in  Green- 
land, and  sixty-nine  in  Scandinavia;  forty-three  species 
are  Alpine  cosmopolites,  and  have  been  met  with  on  the 
Himalayas.  According  to  Mr.  Nathorst's  researches 
in  1882,  the  flora  of  Spitzbergen  is  composed  as  follows : — 
"Rosaceae,  7  species;  Saxifrageae,  10;  Salix,  2;  Com- 
positae,  5 ;  Seraphulariaceae,  2 ;  Ericacea,  2 ;  Gramineae. 


THE  FOX  AND  EAST  GLACIERS         293 

23;  Cyperaceae,  12;  Juncaceae,  6;  Filices  (Fern),  2; 
Lycopodiaceae,  1. 

"The  whole  of  this  flora  immigrated  during  the 
post-glacial  period,  which  was  warmer  than  the  present. 
Although  thus  limited  in  number,  the  flora  is  suggestive 
in  its  distribution.  The  vegetation  of  the  south  has  a 
decidedly  Lappish  or  European  Alpine  character,  while 
that  of  the  north  coast  is  decidedly  American,  and  re- 
calls that  of  Melville  Island.  Many  flowering  plants 
which  are  common  in  north-west  Spitzbergen  are  absent 
from  the  east  coast,  where  the  cold  current  is  inimical  to 
both  flora  and  fauna ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  one  moss 
(Poltia  hyperbarea)  and  one  lichen  (Usnea  melascautha) 
are  found  there  which  are  of  American  origin,  and  grow 
both  in  North  America  and  on  the  Cordilleras." 

Our  stay  in  Recherche  Bay  was  a  most  opportune 
moment  for  seeing  and  hearing  all  about  the  whale 
fishery.  The  Vectis  had  let  go  her  anchor  in  the  centre 
of  the  bay,  in  the  best  possible  position  for  seeing  the 
beauties  of  the  Fox  and  East  Glaciers.  The  towering 
Jurassic  mountains  rose  all  round.  Some  way  ahead  lay 
four  sailing  whalers,  with  their  attendant  small  steamers, 
each  with  a  crow's  nest  at  the  top  of  the  foremast,  and  a 
harpoon  gun  in  the  bow.  The  crews  of  larger  vessels 
were  all  hard  at  work,  cutting  up  the  whales  that  lay 
alongside.  Other  fish  were  moored  astern,  awaiting  their 
turn ;  poor  blown-out  things !  they  looked  like  clincher- 
built  boats  turned  bottom  up.  Thousands  of  birds  were 
settling  on  them  and  screaming  all  round.  It  was  possible 
to  borrow  a  small  boat  from  the  ship  in  the  cause  of  art, 
to  make  a  tour  of  the  whalers  and  gather  information. 

At  first  sight  it  was  all  horrible,  and  the  smell  till  well 
to  windward,  terrible.  The  men  in  the  first  ship  were 
just  stripping  oft'  the  blanket-pieces,  one  end  of  which 


294  CUTTING  UP  WHALES 

was  hooked  on  to  a  rope  which  was  hauled  gently  up  to 
the  yardarm ;  the  men  dexterously  and  very  neatly  cut 
off  the  long  strips  of  blubber  with  very  sharp  slightly- 
curved  knives  on  long  wooden  handles.  The  whole 
surface  of  the  whale  was  so  horrid  and  slippery  that  the 
men  had  continually  to  rub  their  hands  in,  and  sprinkle 
sand  on  the  carcass  to  enable  them  to  stand.  It  did  not 
take  more  than  fifteen  minutes  to  strip  one  side  of  the 
whale,  and  the  whole  was  then  slowly  turned  by  a  line 
passed  under  the  body  and  a  hook  put  through  the  skin 
of  the  belly  and  then  parbuckled  by  the  winch. 

All  the  time  the  fulmar  flew  round  screaming  and 
settling,  tearing  at  the  flesh  and  disputing  the  proprietor- 
ship of  the  poor  dead  mammal  with  the  workers.  The 
crimson  water  round  the  ship  was  covered  by  thousands 
of  these  fluttering,  fighting  petrels.  They  stretched 
away  astern  in  the  tide  as  thick  as  they  could  pack,  so 
gorged  and  heavy  that  they  fluttered  along  the  surface 
of  the  water  for  yards  without  being  able  to  rise.  To 
my  mind  the  birds  made  a  horrible  exhibition  of  them- 
selves, and  quite  did  away  with  the  delightful  fascination 
the  ordinary  herring  gull  is  wont  to  inspire. 

Yarrell,  in  his  book  of  British  birds,  gives  much 
interesting  information  about  the  fulmar  petrel.  He 
writes  that  it  is  only  a  winter  visitor  to  the  more 
southern  parts  of  our  own  coast,  but  is  a  herald  of  polar 
regions,  meeting  the  ships,  as,  indeed,  it  did  ours  on 
approaching  Spitzbergen.  Here  its  colonies  cover  the 
cliffs  in  company  of  the  glaucous  gull.  The  fulmar  breeds 
on  the  face  of  the  highest  precipices,  but  only  on  such  as 
are  furnished  with  small  grassy  shelves.  It  makes  a 
mere  shallow  excavation  in  the  turf,  lined  with  dried 
grass,  in  which  the  bird  deposits  a  single  egg  of  a  pure 
white  colour.  The  young  of  the  bird  are  thickly  covered 


FULMAR  PETREL  295 

with  long  white  down,  are  very  clamorous  when  handled, 
and  in  their  excitement  vomit  a  quantity  of  clear  oil. 
The  old  birds  have  the  same  nasty  habit,  which  one 
might  imagine  would  greatly  disconcert  an  amateur 
sportsman,  more  especially  as  the  oil,  which  is  of  a  clear 
amber  colour,  does  not  smell  nice.  The  bird,  its  young, 
and  even  the  rock  which  it  frequents,  have  a  peculiar  and 
a  very  disagreeable  odour.  Fulmar  oil  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  productions  of  St.  Kilda. 

The  fulmar  from  afar  scents  the  whaler,  and  joins 
the  ship  immediately  on  passing  the  Shetland  Islands, 
and  accompanies  it  through  the  trackless  ocean  to  the 
highest  accessible  latitudes.  It  keeps  an  eager  eye  for 
the  smallest  particle  of  fatty  substance,  and  when  carrion 
is  scarce,  these  vulture-like  gulls  follow  the  living  whale, 
and  often  by  their  peculiar  motions,  hovering  at  the 
surface  of  the  water,  point  out  its  direction  to  the 
fishermen.  Luckily  they  cannot  make  much  impression 
on  the  whale  till  man  or  some  more  powerful  animal 
tears  away  the  blubber.  This  bird  has  a  cruel  bill, 
shaped  like  that  of  a  parrot.  The  young  birds  have 
white  heads  and  brownish  coloured  backs  and  wings, 
very  like  the  colour  of  the  young  swan.  The  older  birds 
change  to  pure  white  head  and  breast  and  grey  back, 
the  same  colour  as  our  ordinary  grey  gull.  I  have  spoken 
here  of  the  fulmar  at  such  length  owing  to  the  fact  that 
all  on  board  our  ship  were  so  interested  and  rather 
horrified  at  the  goings  on  of  these  voracious  birds,  and 
I  am  sure  that  Spitzbergen  will  ever  be  associated  in  our 
minds  with  the  fulmar. 

We  pulled  away  past  the  steamer  to  a  barque  of  about 
700  tons,  astern  of  which  were  four  carcasses  of  whales. 
The  harpoon  was  still  sticking  in  the  flesh  of  one  of  them, 
and  from  it  a  stream  of  blood  oozed,  staining  the  water 


296  A  WHALER 

crimson.  Here  again  the  fulmar  fought  and  jostled, 
snapping  in  the  greasy  mixture.  As  we  approached  the 
ladder,  we  noticed  that  the  whole  of  the  waterline  of  the 
barque  was  thickly  coated  with  a  layer  of  grease.  The 
steps  were  also  covered,  and  the  hand-rope  felt  almost 
like  a  tallow-dip.  The  decks  were  black  and  all  the 
poop  lumbered  with  oil  barrels.  Just  abaft  the  mast 
were  the  great  cauldrons  into  which  a  strange  engine,  not 
unlike  a  mud-dredger  in  shape,  poured  a  continuous 
stream  of  blubber,  cut  into  lumps  about  a  foot  square. 
A  hot,  greasy  smell  pervaded  everything.  Just  at  this 
moment  the  gory  carcass  of  a  whale,  from  which  the 
head,  tail,  fins,  and  every  scrap  of  fat  had  been  cut,  was 
cast  adrift,  and  floated  away,  the  centre  of  a  screaming 
cloud  of  fulmar. 

The  forecastle  of  the  barque  was  piled  up  high  with  the 
relics  of  the  poor  dismembered  monster.  Jaw-bones, 
fins,  and  great  strips  of  blubber,  some  ten  to  fifteen  feet 
long,  were  being  sorted,  and  carved  into  squares.  Three 
men  in  overalls  dragged  them  hither  and  thither  with 
iron  hooks,  stamping  and  sliding  over  the  elastic  and 
slippery  surface  of  the  pile.  The  squares  of  fat  were 
flung  down  into  the  waist,  where  the  aforesaid  engine 
was  cutting  away  with  knives  of  the  very  finest  steel. 
"  Diamond  steel,"  said  one  of  the  greasy  crew.  It  must 
be  hard,  for  now  and  then  the  knife  meets  with  bits  of 
the  shell  which  gives  the  coup  de  grace.  This  bomb 
explodes  when  the  poor  whale  dives,  stung  by  the 
harpoon.  From  the  knives  of  this  giant  sausage  machine, 
the  cubes  of  blubber  were  caught  in  buckets  which  hung 
on  an  endless  chain,  these  carried  them  up  over  a  wheel, 
and  turning  a  somersault  pitched  them  right  into  the 
steaming  cauldrons. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  a  whaler  ?  "  the  man  was 


FAUNA  297 

asked  who  was  doing  the  honours  of  the  ship.  "  Oh,  I 
only  come  this  cruise.  We  got  here  the  middle  of  May." 
"  When  do  you  leave  ?  "  "  Oh,  the  middle  of  August ; 
after  that,  all  ice  here.  There  is  two  whaling  steamers, 
and  one  tugboat  to  each  ship,"  he  said.  "Dey  goes 
long  way  sometimes.  Very  few  fish  this  year.  Dey  kill 
them  all.  No,  dey  not  all  fresh,  sometimes  dey  pick  up  a 
dead  one,  that  has  been  wounded,  but  has  got  away. 
What  did  I  sail  in  before?  Oh,  I  carries  fruit  from 
West  Indies.  The  three-masted  schooner?  Oh,  she  is 
a  collier,  bring  coal  from  England.  No,  she  don't  carry 
oil ;  they  pick  up  the  bones  along  the  shore,  carry  dem  to 
Stavanger;  they  grind  dem  up."  Our  friend  showed  us 
samples  of  the  whalebone,  saying  it  was  worth  ,£180  a 
ton,  and  that  it  was  used  in  the  manufacture  of  silk. 

The  fauna  of  Spitzbergen,  although  not  very  rich  in 
species,  is  exceedingly  rich  in  individuals.  It  includes 
fifteen  mammals,  only  two  of  which  are  terrestrial — the 
reindeer  and  the  ice-fox — besides  the  usual  inhabitant 
of  the  Arctic  regions,  the  polar  bear.  The  number  of 
reindeer  is  really  puzzling.  In  a  single  summer,  or  rather 
in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  no  fewer  than  from  1500 
to  2000  reindeer  were  killed  by  hunters  for  several 
consecutive  years  previous  to  1868.  Much  emaciated  in 
June,  they  grow  very  fat  towards  the  end  of  the  autumn, 
after  feeding  on  the  mosses.  Great  numbers  are 
"  marked "  (that  is,  have  both  ears  cut  at  the  same 
height),  and  the  hunters  were  persuaded  that  these 
individuals  came  from  an  unknown  continent  in  the 
north-east,  where  they  had  been  marked  by  the  hand  of 
man ;  but  Sir  Martin  Conway  discredits  this  notion,  and, 
indeed,  it  seems  difficult  to  believe  that  reindeer  could 
pass  over  the  hundreds  of  miles  of  ocean  separating 
Spitzbergen  from  any  other  land. 


298  POOR  BALJENA  BOOPS 

Eight  Cetaceans  are  met  with  in  the  seas  of  Spitzbergen 
(Balaenoptera  boops),  80  to  110  feet  long.  I  do  not  think 
the  one  we  saw  was  more  than  70  feet,  j  udging  from  the 
size  of  a  man  alongside ;  B.  gigas  and  B.  rostrata.,  30 
feet  long  ;  the  white  whale  {Beluga  caladon),  two  of  which 
we  saw  towed  in  with  one  big  Balcenoptera  boop  and 
two  B.  gigas,  about  30  and  20  feet  long.  All  hurried 
on  deck  to  see  this  wonderful  tow  pass ;  the  tug  steaming 
slowly  along  advanced  with  this  long  line  of  dead  whales. 
One  of  them  had  a  thing  waving  about  in  the  air  like  a 
great  transparent  balloon  bigger  than  the  whale  itself. 
I  think  we  all  felt  a  little  sad  to  see  these  great  un- 
protected carcasses  float  slowly  by,  blown  out  to  quite  an 
indecent  size,  an  unmerited  contemptuous  treatment  for 
these  great  harmless  mammals.  The  balloon,  I  found, 
was  the  air  which  had  entered  the  tongue.  A  tube  is 
inserted  from  the  tug,  and  the  whole  is  blown  full  of  air 
to  make  it  tow  more  easily. 

The  setting  to  this  forlorn  group  was  most  beautiful. 
The  sky  a  soft  pale  transparent  yellow,  reflected  on  the 
great  Fox  Glacier,  suffusing  it  with  the  same  light,  leaving 
its  steep  sides  in  cold  blue  and  purple  shadow.  The 
water  of  the  bay,  who  can  describe  it?  The  glassy 
transparent  water  had  the  colour  and  fire  of  an  opal, 
with  every  here  and  there  upstanding  many-coloured 
miniature  icebergs  shaped  like  strange  ice  flowers.  The 
whales  were  the  only  Cetaceans  we  saw,  though  other 
bays  in  this  archipelago  are  populated  with  crowds  of 
walrus  and  Greenland  seals. 

Besides  the  fulmar  and  glaucous  gull  (Lams  gfatuxui), 
or  the  "  burgomaster,"  of  which  I  have  already  written, 
there  are  also  black  guillemots,  that  drive  and  scurry 
away  when  the  launches  come  too  close,  ivory  gulls, 
kittiwake  gulls ;  while  geese,  looms,  and  snipe  swarm  on 


THE  SNOW  BUNTING  299 

and  about  the  lagoons  and  small  fresh-water  ponds. 
The  bernacle  goose  is  only  a  bird  of  passage,  as  it  goes 
farther  north-east  to  nest.  The  eider  breeds  in  large 
colonies  on  the  islands,  where  its  young  are  safe  from  the 
ice-fox,  only  the  glaucous  gull  and  the  brent  goose  being 
admitted  to  keep  them  company,  while  the  lumme 
and  the  tern  confine  themselves  to  separate  cliffs.  These 
birds,  however,  are  only  guests  in  Spitzbergen,  the  snow 
bunting  being  the  only  species  which  stays  permanently  ; 
twenty-three  species  breed  regularly  on  Spitzbergen,  and 
intermittently  four  others — the  falcon,  snow-owl,  swan, 
and  skua. 

After  a  short  sleep,  we  were  awakened  about  half- 
past  seven  by  an  unusual  sound,  a  sort  of  lapping,  and 
looking  out  of  the  port  we  saw  that  the  calm  surface  of 
the  bay  was  alive  with  a  perfect  army  of  fulmar  advanc- 
ing slowly  in  line.  Each  bird  seemed  to  stir  the  water 
with  its  feet  as  it  advanced,  sipping  in  the  waves  as 
though  there  were  food  of  some  sort  in  them, — the  noise 
of  such  a  multitude  of  creatures  feeding  was  most  strange. 
One  was  somehow  reminded  of  the  rippling  sound  made 
when  the  chorus  at  the  Albert  Hall  turns  those  countless 
pages  of  music  all  at  once. 

When  we  came  on  deck  we  found  that  the  first  officer, 
who  had  been  with  the  purser  on  a  shooting  trip  to  Axel 
Island  whilf  t  we  were  all  asleep,  had  returned.  They  had 
come  upon  a  camp  of  some  sort,  and  skeletons  of  bears 
and  men  were  lying  on  the  barren  shore.  They  brought 
back  a  sextant  made  of  oak.  A  proper  sextant,  though 
rough  to  look  at.  It  would  be  quite  possible  to  take  an 
observation  with  it,  if  you  knew  how  much  to  allow  for 
the  error  of  the  instrument. 

What  a  dismal  picture  one  conjures  up  of  the 
deserted  camp,  and  unburied  bones  surrounded  by 


300    THE  HEIGHT  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN 

great  glaciers  and  stranded  ice-floes.  Besides  the  sextant, 
the  party  brought  back  an  arctic  tern,  a  sweetly  pretty 
little  white  creature,  with  sharp-pointed  bill  and  bright 
scarlet  feet,  and  some  Richardson's  skuas,  black-backed 
birds  with  hooked  beaks  and  white  breasts. 

It  seems  strange  at  first  to  have  the  sun  always  in  the 
sky.  We  had  an  argument  with  some  of  the  passengers 
as  to  how  high  it  was  at  midnight,  and  at  last  the 
captain  went  and  fetched  his  sextant  and  shot  the  sun 
for  us.  It  turned  out  to  be  eleven  degrees  above  the 
horizon.  There  is  a  sort  of  rosy  tint  in  the  sunlight 
most  of  the  time,  and  the  distant  snow  peaks  have 
quite  a  pink  glow  as  they  peep  up  out  of  the  haze,  then 
the  earth  is  reddish,  and  the  moss  that  springs  up 
whenever  the  snow  has  melted  away  has  quite  a  crimson 
lake  and  burnt  sienna  sort  of  a  tint,  so  that  in  spite 
of  the  great  blue  glaciers  the  scene  is  not  all  cold  and 
white.  The  bright  scarlet  bodies  of  the  poor  skinned 
whales,  which  drift  by  at  intervals,  also  give  a  touch 
of  colour,  and  the  transparent  glassy  tint  of  the  moun- 
tains in  shadow  is  most  wonderful  with  an  unearthly 
beauty  all  its  own. 

We  were  very  comfortable  all  the  next  day  after 
leaving  Recherche  Bay.  The  mist  had  enveloped  our 
surroundings,  but  the  sea  was  calm.  One  small  fishing- 
boat  had  emerged  right  in  our  path,  about  the  time 
of  daybreak  in  ordinary  latitudes.  The  air  was  chilly 
and  damp,  but  in  the  music-room  all  was  comfort  and 
warmth.  One  knot  of  people  were  busy  painting  arctic 
birds ;  another  knot,  arctic  flowers.  Some  were  reading, 
others  talking  of  their  greenhouses  and  gardens  at 
home,  being  reminded  of  flower  after  flower  at  the  mere 
sight  of  one's  dish  full  of  flowering  mosses.  These  few 
long  days  at  sea  made  fast  friends  of  many  people.  All 


LATITUDE  80°  24'  N.  301 

were  on  the  qui  vive  for  the  first  sight  of  the  pack-ice. 
On  deck  the  air  was  cold,  very  cold,  so  that  we  could 
not  be  far -off.  First  one  little  scrap,  then  another  of 
transparent  gro«n  ice  floated  by,  then  more,  little  lumps 
and  hummocks.  The  ship  slowed ;  and  as  she  did  so 
the  fog  began  to  lift,  and  continued  lifting  as  we  slowly 
forged  ahead.  The  small  lumps  passed  more  rapidly 
every  moment';  then  the  mist  lifted,  and  right  in  front 
of  us  was  the  limitless  Ice-Pack  reaching  away  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  see.  Only  fancy  if  the  Fram  could  have 
been  coming  out  of  the  pack  at  that  moment,  there 
were  we  in  latitude  80°  24'  N.,  and  she  came  out  a  little 
north  of  80° ;  but  the  Sisters  of  Tromso,  a  whaler,  was 
the  vessel  in  luck  that  time.  Opening  Nansen's 
Farthest  North  at  haphazard  I  came  across  the  passage : 
"  The  world  that  shall  be !  ...  Again  and  again  this 
thought  comes  back  to  my  mind,  I  gaze  far  on  through 
the  ages." 

"  Monday,  April  20th. — Drifting  northwards.  Yester- 
day observations  gave  80°  42',  and  to-day  80°  44^'.  The 
wind  steady  from  the  south  and  south-east."  "  It  is 
lovely  spring  weather.  One  feels  that  spring-time  must 
have  come.  .  .  ."  Then  again,  "Every  night  I  am  at 
home  in  my  dreams,  but  when  the  morning  breaks  I 
must  again,  like  Helge,  gallop  back  on  the  pale  horse 
by  the  way  of  the  reddening  dawn,  not  to  the  joys  of 
Valhalla,  but  to  the  realm  of  eternal  ice."  Much 
longing,  it  seems  to  me,  is  in  the  words. 

Hummocky  ice  stood  up  in  all  kinds  of  shapes,  the 
standing  pieces  a  bright  green,  with  every  now  and  then 
a  patch  stained  by  either  ironstone,  or  the  bed  of 
some  Siberian  river.  We  steamed  round  the  edge  of 
the  pack  some  four  to  five  hundred  yards  from  it,  and 
noticed  that  the  ice  had  a  slight  pink  tinge  with  trans- 


302          PRINCE  CHARLES'S  FORELAND 

parent  blues  and  greens  against  a  tender  pale  sky,  the 
ice  merging  into  the  sky.  We  turned  and  headed  south, 
the  low  ice  dispersing  very  soon.  All,  as  usual,  hud  been 
thought  of,  and  above  the  first  item  on  the  menu  at 
lunch  was  July  25th,  Ice  Pack,  Lat.  80*  24,'  Long.  4°  50'. 

In  the  afternoon  we  again  sighted  Spitzbergen.  The 
mountains,  with  the  sun  shining  on  the  pink  snow,  came 
into  view  in  a  long  line  under  a  thick  grey  cloud,  which 
slowly  rose,  leaving  the  most  beautiful  clear  green  sky. 
All  the  afternoon  the  peaks  passed  in  procession  great 
snowfields  and  glaciers,  while  the  mountains,  hollowed 
into  basins,  were  filled  with  snow,  and  rising  from  inside 
the  basin,  round  the  sides,  were  ice  and  snow,  like  the 
beautiful  fern  patterns  that  one  sees  in  winter  on  the 
window-pane. 

We  had  a  concert  in  the  evening,  which  lasted  till 
half-past  ten.  It  was  bright  daylight  still,  a  lovely 
soft  yellow  light  over  all.  The  sea  like  glass  reflected 
the  soft  colour  on  the  surface,  and  the  ripple  from  the 
ship's  bow  broke  in  little  billows  of  the  most  lovely 
sapphire  blue.  A  tall  girl,  with  a  figure  like  a  goddess, 
and  a  glorious  crown  of  golden  hair,  was  singing.  The 
voices  in  the  music-room  were  stilled  to  listen,  as  her 
clear  notes  rose  higher  and  higher.  All  the  time  the 
marvellous  ice-peaks  of  Prince  Charles's  Foreland  were 
slowly  passing,  each  one  framed  by  the  porthole,  trans- 
parent and  clear,  the  colour  of  opals.  Those  peaks ! 
those  lovely  peaks !  and  the  voice  went  on,  and  the 
peaks  glided  by,  both  leaving  an  impression  that  will 
never  fade. 

It  was  late  in  the  summer  when  the  Vectis,  with  the 
Vecti  on  board,  decided  to  cross  the  North  Sea  to  the 
coast  of  Britain.  All  on  board  of  the  ship  wondered  if 
jEgir  and  Ran,  the  god  and  goddess  of  the  sea,  and  their 


THE  BELIEFS  OF  THE  VECTI  303 

daughters,  would  show  themselves  in  ugly  mood  on  their 
way  home.  Having  cruised  all  along  the  fjords  of 
Norway  from  Christiania  to  the  polar  ice,  they  had 
imbibed  many  new  beliefs,  as  was  natural  when  visiting 
the  halls  of  the  dead,  and  treading  the  soil  held  for  so 
long  by  the  sons  of  Odin. 

The  Vecti  believed  as  of  old,  that  those  who  were 
drowned  at  sea  went  to  Ran  ;  those  who  died  by  weapons 
went  to  Valhalla ;  and  those  who  died  a  natural  death  in 
then-  beds  or  chairs  went  to  Hel.  What  happened  to  those 
who  died  of  the  movement  of  the  sea  is  not  known.  The 
seafaring  people  worshipped  ^Egir,  for  he  governed  the 
sea  and  wind.  Ran,  his  wife,  received  well  all  ship- 
wrecked people  in  her  hall  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea, 
and  had  a  net  with  which  she  caught  men  who  came  out 
to  sea ;  drowned  men  were  sure  to  be  welcomed  by  her. 

The  Wind  and  the  Fire  are  the  brothers  of  Mgir. 
The  Wind  is  so  strong  that  he  moves  large  oceans,  and 
stirs  up  his  brother  the  Fire.  ^Egir  and  Ran  have  nine 
beautiful  daughters  who  live  in  the  sea,  and  the  waves 
are  named  after  them.  These  daughters  often  go  three 
together,  and  the  winds  awake  them  from  their  sleep. 
They  are  not  partial  to  men,  and  are  always  seen  in 
storms.  All  had  names  emblematic  of  the  waves.  They 
are  called  Himingloefa,  the  Heaven  glittering;  Dufa, 
the  Dove;  Blodughadda,  the  Bloody-haired;  Helfring, 
the  Hurling,  or  Heaving ;  Ud,  the  Loving ;  Hronn,  the 
Towering ;  Bylgja,  the  Billowing,  or  Swelling ;  Bara, 
the  Lashing ;  Kolga,  the  Cooling.  ^Egir  and  Ran  were 
not  to  let  this  mighty  vessel  go  home  quietly. 

The  ship  was  hardly  out  of  sight  of  land  when  the 
sky  became  dark  and  threatening,  the  clouds  hung  low 
and  moved  with  great  rapidity,  the  wind  kept  increasing 
in  violence,  the  waves  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  the 


304  THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  RAN 

North  Sea  was  like  a  sheet  of  white  foam.  The  Vectis 
rode  over  the  waves  as  if  she  were  a  seagull,  and  was  so 
easily  steered  that  the  people  believed  and  declared  that 
she  understood  the  human  voice.  From  the  south-west, 
the  wind  shifted  suddenly  to  the  north-west,  and  alternate 
gusts  of  wind  and  rain  followed  each  other  in  quick 
succession. 

"  It  is  good,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the  Doktor,  "  that 
no  man  knows  his  fate  beforehand ;  his  mind  is  thus  free 
from  anxiety  and  sorrow."  "The  day  was  fine  this 
morning,"  answered  Thomasson,  "but,  after  all,  a  day 
should  be  praised  at  night,  a  woman  after  she  is  buried, 
a  sword  after  it  is  tried,  ice  when  it  has  been  crossed 
over,  and  a  voyage  after  it  is  ended." 

"  Those  are  wise  sayings,"  replied  the  Doktor ;  and  as 
the  Vectis  was  ploughing  her  way  fast  through  the  waves, 
he  said  to  Thomasson,  "Tell  me  of  those  sea-maidens 
who  wander  over  the  sea,  and  pass  their  lives  in  doing 
harm  to  many  men." 

"  Those  maidens  are  the  daughters  of  Mg\r  and  Ran," 
replied  Thomasson ;  "  they  are  evil-minded,  and  slay 
men ;  they  are  seldom  gentle  to  us  seafaring  people, 
and  the  wind  arouses  them  from  their  sleep,  and  they 
look  angrily  at  the  ships  sailing  over  the  sea." 

"Who  are  the  maidens,"  asked  the  Doktor  again, 
"  who  walk  over  the  reefs,  and  journey  along  the  fjords 
and  shores?  These  white-hooded  women  have  a  hard 
bed,  and  make  little  stir  in  calm  weather." 

Thomasson  replied :  "  These  are  billows  and  waves, 
daughters  of  Ran.  They  lay  themselves  on  skerries ; 
their  beds  are  the  rocks,  and  the  calm  sea  stirs  them 
not ;  but  lo,  when  the  wind  blows  hard,  it  rouses  their 
anger,  and  they  send  the  men  that  are  on  the  deep  to 
Ran,  their  mother." 


THE  COAST  OF  BRITAIN  305 

"  I  fear,"  said  the  Doktor,  "  by  the  look  of  the  sky, 
that  we  are  going  to  meet  ^Egir  and  Ran  and  their 
daughters  erelong  in  their  angry  mood." 

The  wind  kept  increasing.  "The  brother  of  Mgh; 
who  stirs  the  ocean,"  said  the  foster-brother,  "  wishes  to 
see  what  kind  of  men  are  on  board  of  the  Vectis ;  for,  as 
thou  seest,  the  sea  is  becoming  mountain  high."  Then 
the  Doktor,  who  was  looking  at  the  wake  made  by  the 
ship,  said  to  Thomasson,  "  who  are  those  white-helmeted 
maidens  that  I  seem  to  see  yonder?  They  are  dressed 
in  white,  have  frowning  looks,  their  breasts  heave  with 
passion,  and  they  are  coming  fast  towards  the  Vectis" 

"  Those  are  three  of  the  daughters  of  JEgir  and  Ran, 
and  by  their  size  and  fierceness  must  be  Hronn,  Bylgja, 
and  Hefring ;  let  us  beware  of  them,  for  their  anger  is  in 
their  looks ;  they  are  coming  rapidly  toward  us,  and  I 
think  they  mean  us  harm." 

Thomasson  had  hardly  uttered  these  words  when  there 
dashed  a  wave  so  strongly  against  the  Vectis  that  it  made 
her  shiver  from  stem  to  stern  ;  it  was  Hronn,  they  fancied, 
that  had  come  against  the  ship.  Then  another  wave 
followed  and  hit  the  great  ship  on  her  bows ;  it  was 
Bylgja.  Right  after  Bylgja,  in  the  wink  of  an  eye,  came 
another  wave  that  swamped  the  deck  of  the  ship  and 
flung  four  men  down.  The  wind  shifted,  and  the  ship 
was  driven  toward  the  dangerous  coast  of  Britain,  and 
came  in  sight  of  a  large  island  with  great  white  cliffs 
hanging  over  the  sea.  The  storm  seemed  then  to  be  at 
its  height.  "Witchcraft  moves  the  storm,"  cried 
Thomasson,  "  and  we  had  better  sail  under  the  lee  of 
the  island,  for  we  cannot  contend  with  JEgir,  nor  Ran, 
and  their  daughters." 

During  the  night  the  storm  abated,  and  towards 
morning  the  Vecti  thought  they  saw  nine  Valkyrias, 
20 


306  THE  THAMES  ONCE  MORE 

helmet-clad  and  with  shining  spears,  riding  in  the  air 
over  their  ship,  and  then  the  storm  ceased.  "  They  have 
come  to  protect  us  and  hush  the  storm ;  the  decree  of 
the  Nornir  in  regard  to  our  death  is  not  yet  to  be 
fulfilled." 

Entering  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  they  steamed 
slowly  up,  and,  arriving  at  Gravesend,  the  anchor  was 
let  go,  the  Vecti  returned  each  to  his  home  with  much 
spoil  in  skins,  beautiful  gold  filigree,  enamel  work,  and 
many  fine  embroideries. 


INDEX 


AANDALSNAES,  178,  179 

Abel,  Nils,  36 

Acropolis,  29 

Act,  Conscription,  219 

Adrian  vn.,  39 

-Egir,  303 

^Esir,  279 

Akershus,  33 

Akersvik,  39 

Albans,  St.,  39 

Alfax,  279 

Alumanniee,  Hansa,  114 

Amt,  73 

Amtmand,  37,  39 

Anastasius,  39 

Angantyrs,  13,  14,  15 

Animals,  Wild,  251 

Archer,  Colin,  48,  50 

Arctic  Circle,  223 

Argonaut,  174 

Arne,  Bjornson,  86,  I  So 

Arngrim,  13 

Art,  Museum  of,  17 

Norwegian,  25 

Asgaard,  276 

Atlantis,  262 

Attenburg,  Maria  Cornelia,  5 1 

Aud,  280 

Auflemsfjeld,  169,  171 

Aulestad,  1 88 

Axel,  64 

Baade,  Knud,  19 
Bach,  29,  30,  80 
Bache,  Walter,  129 
Baedeker,  66 
Bakke,  63,  151 
Bakke-Elv,  152 


307 


Balanoptera  boops,  298 

Balholm,  154,  160,  161,  166 

Bandak,  Lake,  52 

Bara,  303 

Barents,  288 

Barnett,  J.  F.,  129 

Basto,  Isle  of,  7 

Bautasten,  57 

Bautasteinar,  5 

Bears,  50,  259 

Bele,  King,  161,  164 

Bennetter,  Mr.,  57 

Bensjordtend,  231 

Berg,  Magnus  Elisen,  18 

Bergen,  29,  62,  102,  104,  109,  113, 

1 20,  144,  1 68 

Bishop  of,  64 

Bergthora,  281,  282,  283 

Berlin,  21 

Bjorgen,  186 

Bjornson,  21,  22,  24,  35,  37,  46,  79 

86,  107.  128,  130,  186,  188,  189 

257 
Bjorvik,  33 


Calypso,  291 

Canal,  Nordsjo-Skien,  52 

Cape  Leigh  Smith,  288 

Mohn,  288 

North,  240 

Capellen,  Georg,   128 
Cappelen,  Herman  August,  21 
Carlsruhe,  21,  27 
Centaurs,  31 

Charles,  Prince,  218,  273,  302 
Christian  in.,  King,  216 
Christian  iv.,  King,  64 


308 


NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 


Christiania,  7,  8,  32,  33,  34,  35,  37, 

38,  40,  41,  44,  45 
Christiansand,  53,  55,  56,  257 
Christie,  Mr.  H.,  193 

Stiftamt,  253 

Church,  Vor  Frelsers,  30 

Clubfoot,  Baron,  64 

Crane,  94 

Cratch,  Mr.  W.  D.,  262 

Colbran,  105 

Collet,  Frederik,  24 

"Confession,   The    Condemned 

Man's,"  38 
Constantinople,  36 
Con  way,  Sir  Martin,  297 
Copenhagen,  27,  29,  30 
Cottell,  Mr.  R.,  262 
"Couple,  A  Solitary,"  20 
Court  Poet,  278 
Cuyp,  17 


Dahl,  1 8,  65,  221 

Fru,  164 

Johan  Christian,  17 

Dalen,  17 

Dals-Elv,  135 

Dannreuther,  Edward,  129 

Dairies,  Co-operative,  157 

Death,  Black,  36 

De  Beriot,  105 

Deer,  241 

De  Hooch,  17 

Denmark,  39,  56,  64,  73 

Devonian  Times,  270 

Ditten,  Wibe,  64 

Doktor,  304,  305 

Dovre,  155 

Dow,  Gerard,  17 

Drobak,  8 

Dry  as  octopetala,  291 

Du    Chaillu,   72,    138,    161,    196, 

276. 

Dufa,  303 
Dusseldorf,  19,  2 1 
Dydril,  Thorkel,  92 


Earl,  64 

East  Glacier,  293 
Eddas,  278,  279 
Edinburgh,  40 


Edsvaag,  22 
Egdir,  279 
Eide,  69,  74,  140 
Eider,  265 
Eidsvold,  30,  37,  40 
Eidsvoldthing,  71 
Eidsvold  vark,  38 
Einar,  278 
Ekeberg,  33 
Ekersund,  56 
Elfdal,  181 
Elgin,  Lord,  28 
Elk,  260 
Elphinstone,  128 
Elv,  Skiens,  52 
Ender,  Axel,  24,  184 
England,  42,  73 
English  Fleet,  74 
Eozoon,  269 
Erik  Blodoks,  208,  278 
Erika,  36 

Erlingsson,  Magnus,  215 
Espelandfos,  70 
Eugenius,  39 
Evanger,  135 
Everdingen,  17 
Exhibition,  Jackson,  50 


Faeo,  62 
Faerder-Fyr,  4 
Faestningsbrygge,  118 
Faleida,  1 68 
Farsund,  56 

Fauna  of  Spitzbergen,  297 
Fearnley,  19 
Fele,  Norwegian,  80 
Fenvir,  279 
Fiksensund,  63,  8 1 
Fin,  Farm  of,  140,  142 
Finck,  Mr.,  104 
Finland,  246 
Finnegaarden,  112 
Finneloft,  140,  141 
Firdafylke,  167 
Fjaerland,  173 
Fjalar,  279 
Fjeld  Finns,  240 
Fjord,  4,  44-,  141 

Aurlands,  145,  154 

Bolstad,  135 

Bommelo,  60 


INDEX 


309 


Fjord,  Bukke,  55 

Christiania,  4 

Daviks,  168 

Drammen,  7 

Eid,  71 

Eyds,  1 68 

Fjaerlands,  155 

Graven,  74 

Hardanger,  62,  63,  72 

Helgeraar,  50 

Hundviks,  168 

Is,  168,  178 

Langesund,  50 

Mauranger,  63,  66,  67 

Melanger,  230 

Molde,  178,  181 

Naero,   140,    144,    145,    152, 

154,  167,  170,  289 

Nord,  168 

Romsdal,  178,  182 

Sandesogns,  7 

Sogne,  72,  145,  167,  273 

Solberg,  230 

S6r,  69,  71,  134 

Stavanger,  69 

Stor,  288 

Trondhjem,  148,  246 

Ult,  168 

Utne,  71 

Vaags,  230 

Fladager,  30 
Fleelith,  283 
Fleet,  Dano-Norwegian,  217 

English,  74 

Flora  of  Spitzbergen,  292 

Flydal,  Farm  of,  177 

Flydalsbrae,  177 

Flydalshorn,  174,  177 

Fokstuen,  181 

Folgefond,  63,  65,  66,  69,  70 

Folgefondfjeld,  65 

Fogderi,  73 

Foged,  73 

Formanskab,  73 

Fox  Glacier,  289,  293,  298 

Fram,  48,  50,  250 

Frederick  vi.,  37 

Fredrikshald,  5 

Frey,  279 

Frich,  J.  C.  G.,  19,  33 

Friedricks,  19 

Friesland,  Dutch  cruiser,  290 

20* 


Frithjof,  144 
Frognersaeter,  34 

Gaard,  45,  1 12,  115 
Gaard,  Suphelle,   157 
Gade,  Carl  Johans,  9,  37 

Niels  W.,  130 

Store-Hammer,  40 

Strand,  40 

Tordenskjolds,  56 

Ganger  Rolf,  141 

Garden,  University,  17 

Gefle,  181 

Geikie,  Sir  A,,  270 

Geiranger,  174,  177 

Geirason,  278 

Gerhard,  Marchus,  65 

Germany,  56 

Gi  Sund,  230 

Gjerde,  66 

Glafin,  278 

Glencoe,  180 

Glommen,  38,  181 

Gloppen,  168 

Glosimodt,  Olaf  Olafsen,  30 

Glutton,  260 

Gorbitz,  Johan,  19 

Gosse,  Dr.  E.  W.,  120 

Grande,  178 

Graven,  8 1 

Graveyard,  108 

Greenland,  41,  298 

Greigh,  General,  128 

Grieg,  Alexander,  128 

Edvard,    36,    84,    104,    107, 

124,    125,    126,    127,    129,    130, 

131,  133 

Fru,  125,  126,  127 

Grim,  282,  284 
Grimstad,  51,  52 
Gronsdal,  70 
Guarneri,  104 
Gudbrandsdal,  41,  148 
Gude,  Hans,  21,  33 
Gudvangen,  140,  154 
Gulathing,  72 
Gundulph,  58 
Gunner,  282 

Haakon,  73,  139,  165,  219,  278 
Hafrsfjord,  59,  61 


NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 


Hake,  13 

Hakluyt,  253 

Halden,  5 

Haldor,  99 

Hailing,  84 

Hallingdal,  35 

Hamar,  39,  40 

Hammerfest,  248,  249 

Hammer  Store,  39 

Hampstead,  Morten,  40 

Hanekamb,  71 

Hangse,  Lensmand  C.  J.,  73 

Hansa,  H3>  115 

Hansen,  Carl  Sundt,  21,  30 

Andr.  M.,  239 

Harakl  Fairhair,  278 

Hardraada,  21,  214 

Haarfagre,  57,  59,  202,  206, 

207 

Hasvik,  247 
Haugen,  Hans,  258 

Ole,  79 

Haugesund,  59 
Haven,  Ostre,  56 

Vestre,  56 

Heftye,  Villa,  34 
Heimskringla,  35 
Hel,  303 
Helfring,  303 
Helgi,  282,  284 
Hellesaeterbrae,  171 
Hempl,  197 
Herodotus,  35 
Herschel,  Sir  John,  40 
Hertfordshire,  39 
Hervard,  14 
Hervor,  13,  15,  1 6 
Hestmann,  224 
Heyerdahl,  Hans,  25,  26 
Hildal,  70 
Hildalfos,  70 
Himingloefa,  303 
Hjalmar,  15,  1 6 
Hjorvard,  14 
Hoff,  Major,  65 
Holberg,  Ludvig,  36 
Holefos,  174 
Holmenkolbakken,  35 
Holmenkollen,  32,  34,  35 
Holmquist,  Mr.  P.  J.,  270 
Hop,  124,  134 
Horgheim,  179 


Horland,  64 
Hornelen,  168 
Hornindalsvand,  168 
Hornklof,  278 
Hoskuld,  283,  284,  285 
Hotel,  Fleischer's,  140 

Hardanger,  69,  71 

Sandven,  8l 

Hovedo,  33 
Hrbnn,  303,  305 
Hudiksvall,  181 
Huldreslaater,  81 
Hummicky  ice,  301 
Hurling,  303 
Hyrning,  88,  97,  100 


Ibsen,  189 

Henrik,  26,  36,  37,  $1 

Knud,  51 

Ice  Age,  63 

pack,  301 

Indre  Samlen,  63 

Ilissus,  31 

Infanticide,  27 

Invik,  1 68 

Island,  Frederick  Jackson,  149 

Islede  France,  289,  290 

Ivar,  the  Viking,  138 

Jacobsen,  Schoolmaster,  22,  23 
Jaderen,  57 
Jadki,  248 
Jagter,  117 

Jardine,  Sir  Henry,  40 
Jarl,  Eirik,  87,  88,  89,  90,  91,  94, 
95.  97,  98,  99,  ioi 

Sigvaldi,  89 

Jarlsberg-Laurvik,  257 

Jarnbardi,  95,  99 

Joachim,  104 

Johan,  King  Carl,  29,  30 

Johansen,  49 

Jomfru  Marias  Synaal,  59 

Jordal,  70 

Jordalsnut,  151 

Jotnar,  34,  276 

Jotunheim,  279 

Jurassic  Times,  271 

Justedal,  85,  225 

Karjole,  146 

Karmo,  58 


INDEX 


Karmosund,  59 

Keary,  Mr.  C.  F.,  278,  280 

Keesa,  53 

Ketil  Flatnose,  280 

Kielland,  Alexander,  36,  189 

Kjendal,  173 

Kjendalsbrae,  171 

Kjerulf,  Halfdan,  30,  84,  131 

Kjtindalsfos,  70 

Kleivafos,  174 

Klipfisk,  228 

Knivsflaa,  178 

Knut,  King,  212 

Laagen,  41 

Labrador,  9 

Laeffler,  Martin,  80 

Lagaboter,  Magnus,  139,  215 

Laing,  Mr.,  141 

Lakes,  Bandak,  52 

La  Mara,  128 

Lampieri,  105 

Land,  Franz  Joseph's,  49 

Landnama-bok,  280 

Langedal,  134 

Langley,  39 

Lanshorn,  178 

Lapithse,  31 

Lapp,  54,  235,  236,  238,  239,  240, 

241,  249 

Larus  glauais,  298 
Laurvik,  48,  272 
Laxevarp,  161 

League,  Hanseatic,  no,  in,  113 
Lemming,  The,  227,  260 
Lensmand,  74 
Lerchenfeld,  Lerche,  64 
Lie,  Jonas,  27,  106,  189 
Lillehammer,  40 
Lindemann,  84 
Lindesnas,  56 
Linneea  borealis,  264 
Lister,  56 
Listermandal,  57 
Liszt,  103,  131,  132 
Ljona's  Aas,  63 
Llakhof,  49 
Lodge,  Richard,  113 
Loen,  168,  169,  171,  173 
Loendal,  169 
Loenvand,  172 
Lofjeld,  169 
Lofoten  Islands,  25,  225,  226 


Loithus,  149 

Londeman,  Edvard,  64 

Lopus  String,  149 

Lotefos,  70 

Lougen,  41 

Loveid,  Locks  of,  52 

Liibeck,  1 12 

Ludwig,  64 

Lund,  56 

Luther,  37 

Lutheran,  37 

Lyall,  Edna,  160 

Lyngen,  234,  235,  247,  248 

Lyngso,  62 

Maekir,  15 

Magnus  of  Norway,  114 
Magnus,  Olaus,  262 
Magnusson,  Eystein,  215 

Haakon,  141 

Majorstuen,  32 

Malibran,  Madame,  104,  105 

Mandrapsthing,  72 

Marchus,  Baron,  65 

Marconigraph,  251 

Mazias,  57 

Medaas,  8 1 

Melaanfos,  63 

Melheimsnib,  171 

Menglod,  278 

Meridianstotte,  251 

Merok,  169,  174,  175 

Metropole,  Hotel,  102 

Meyer,  Johan,  139 

Michelsen,  Hans,  29,  30,  33 

Middelthun,  30 

Midstuen,  32 

Milford,  Mr.,  253 

Mjosen,  Lake,  38,  39,  44 

Mjolnir,  276 

Molde,  24,  184,  185,  186 

Mongefos,  181 

Mongegjura,  181 

Mork,  42 

"Morn,  The  Resurrection,"  24 

Munarvag,  16 

Mundal,  155 

Munich,  24,  25 

Munthe,  Gerhard,  25,  33,  165 

Name-fastening,  137 

Nansen,  48,  49,  50,  219,  238,  250 


312 


NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 


Naze,  56 

Naerodals-Elv,  145 

Naesdal,  171,  172,  173 

Naesodtangen,  8 

Naeverkout,  50 

Nefja,  Thorkel,  88 

Neolithic  man,  274 

Nestun,  134 

Neupert,  Edmund,  36 

Nicolaysen,  Mr.,  5 

Nilson,  Isak,  81 

Nissen,  Lie,  36 

Njal,  Burnt,  281,  282,  283 

No  Man's  Land,  245 

Nonsnib,  171,  173,  174 

Nordaasvand,  124 

Nordfjord,  117 

Nordkap,  255 

Nordland,  230 

Nordraak,  Richard,  130,  131 

Nordsjb,  52 

Nordsjo,  Telemarken,  52 

Nornir,  306 

Norse,  64,  107 

Chief,  13 

Pilot,  3 

Norseman,  A  Hardy,  160 

Norsk,  85 

Norway,  25,  39,  40,  44,  47,  56,  58, 

64,  65,  70,  71,  73,  75,  84,  85,  87, 

106 

flowers  of,  263 

forest  growth  of,  257 

gods  of.  199 

natural  history  of,  252 

Norwegian  beer,  173 

consuls,  218 

kings,  191 

sheep,  152 

timber  vessel,  5 

Notero,  The,  6 
Notitia,  199 
Novgorod,  Nishni,  ill 

Obsenfjeld,  73 
Odde,  65,  69,  70 
Odderoen,  56 
Odin,  164,  195,  276,  279 
Ofsthus  Fos,  82 
Oksen  Beacon,  73 
Oksenfjeld,  74 
Oksen  Headland,  74 


Olaf,  Haraldsson,  212 

King,  87,   90,  92,  93,    100, 

101 

Kyrre,  215 

Prince,  34,  119 

St.,  161,  212 

Olden,  168 
Olsdatter,  Thora,  42 
Olsen,  66,  112 
Oscar,  King,  218 
Oscarsborg,  8 
Oscarshal,  19,  20,  23 
"Ost,  Gammel,"  44 
Ostade,  17 
Ostenso,  63 
Ostero,  134 
Otteraa,  56 

Paris,  25,  27 
Painters,  19 
Painting,  School  of,  17 
Parthenon,  29,  31 
Patti,  Adelina,  106 
Pepys,  Samuel,  119 
Phidias,  28 
Pilot,  Norse,  3 

The,  4 

Pipervik,  35 

Plads,  Eidsvolds,  30 

PJaidy,  129 

Plants,  Flowering,  292 

Polska,  84,  85 

Pontoppidan,  222,  252 

Porphyry,  8 

Porsgrund,  50 

Potter,  17 

Promontory,  8 

Prose  Edda,  195 

Powel,  Mr.,  277 

Powell,  Sir  G.  Baden,  250 

Quay,  German,  no 
Vaagen,  109 

Ragnarok,  279 
Ramsey,  Colonel,  180 
Ran,  302 
Ranger,  8 

Ratnaeshaugen,  185 
Rauma,  179,  1 81 
Ravenfjeld,  171 
Recherche  Bay,  289,  293,  300 


INDEX 


Red  Bay,  290 

Reinald,  Bishop,  57 

Reindeer,  260 

Rembrandt,  17 

Ringedalsvard,  68 

Ringerike,  44 

Roches  Moutonnces,  273 

Rochester,  Knights'  Hall,  58 

Rodal,  171 

Rb'di,  171 

Rome,  39 

Romsdal,  179,  248 

Romsdalshorn,  179,  183,  185 

Roraas,  181 

Rosenberg,  18,  29 

Rosendal,  Barons  of,  64 

Rosenkrantz,  113,  118 

Rosenkrone,  Baron,  64,  65 

"  Rou,  The  Ballad  of,"  204 

Rover,  62 

Rule,  Danish,  36 

Runakedlo,  74 

Runatal,  162 

Runic  Stone,  74 

Russell,  Scott,  48 

Russia,  246 

Ruysdael,  17 

Saathorn,  174 
Sabine,  Sir  Ed.,  251 
Saeter,  42,  47 
Saeter,  Mork,  42 
Saetersdal,  53,  54,  55,  56 
Saga,  Fornmanna,  101 

Frithjof,  161 

The  Halfred,  210 

Hervarar,  16 

Holmsnega,  280 

Olafs,  Saint,  13 

Olaf  Tryggvason's,  101 

Skjoldunga,  200 

Staurlang's,  200 

Sagas,  71,  87,  279 
Salundare,  144 
Samle  Nut,  63 
Sandefjord,  5 
Sandenib,  171 
Sandven,  66,  69,  75 
Sandwich,  Lord,  119 
Saxifraga,  291 
Schjelderup,  131 
School,  Norwegian,  25 


Schumann,  128 

Schweigaard,  30 

Scotland,  56 

Seiland,  Island  of,  248 

Selmer,  36 

"  Semiramide,"  9 

Serpent,  Long,  88,  89,  90,  91,  92, 

93,  94,  96,  97,  98,  99,  10° 
Serpent,  Short,  92,  94 
Seven  Sisters,  223,  224 
Sevlefos,  151 
Siberia,  49 
Siegfried,  277 
Siggen,  60 

Sigmund,  87,  283,  284 
Sigurd,  12 

Sinclair,  Captain,  180 
Sinding,  Christian,  25 

Otto,  24,  25,  30,  36 

Stephen,  25,  29,  37,  103 

"  Sisters,  The  Two,"  25 

Skaalebrae,  171 

Skaalfjeld,  171 

Skagerak,  The,  2,  48,  53,  86,  181 

Skarphedinn,  282,  283,  284 

Skarsfos,  70 

Skaw,  The,  2 

Skeibrok,  Mathias,  30 

Skien,  51,  52 

Skiens-Elv,  50 

Skiolld,  284 

Skjaeggedal,  68,  70 

Skjolden,  144 

Skjalgsson,  Erling,  88,  89 

Skjoldunga  Branch,  201 

Skougumsaas,  8 

Skudesnas,  61 

Skuld,  138 

Sleipnir,  276 

Slemmestad,  8 

Smidt,  Dr.,  121 

Snorro  Sturleson,  213 

Sogne,  144,  154 

Sognefest,  144 

Sogur,  Fornmanna,  87 

Soot,  Eyolf,  27 

Sor,  The,  68 

Soro,  Island  of,  248 

Sund, 247 

Spitzbergen,  288,  292 
Spohr,  104 
Sundefos,  67 


314 


NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS 


Springdans,  84 

Stabbur,  46 

Stalheim,  147 

Stalheimsfos,  151 

Stallari,  Kolbjorn,  IOO,  IOI 

Staubbachs,  181 

Stavanger,  57 

Stavekirke,  29 

Steen,  Jan,  17 

Steilene,  8 

Stephenson,  Robert,  40 

Stolkjaerre,  147,  174 

Stone,  9 

Stone  Age,  275 

Stordo,  62 

Store-Hammer,  40 

Storfos,  174,  177 

Storsaeterfos,  174 

Storthing,  217,  218 

Stotte-Haralds,  58 

Strandebarms  Bugt,  63 

Strandsfos,  70 

Strauss,  Richard,  80 

"Strephon,"  78,  79,  80 

Sturlasson,  Snorre,  35 

Sulen-Oer,  144 

Sullivan,  Sir  Arthur,  129 

Sundal,  66,  69 

Suphelle,  155,  158 

Svafrlami,  14 

Svartenut,  70 

Svartisen,  224,  225 

Svein,  87,  88,  89,  90,  93,  94,  95 

Svendsen,  Johan,  36,  132,  133 

Sverdrup,  Otto,  250 

Svipdag,  278 

Svoldr,  Battle  of,  87 

Sweden,  246 

S within,  St.,  58 

Synaal,  Jomfru  Marias,  59 

Taylor,  Isaac,  197 

Franklin,  129 

Teddiman,  120 

Telemarken,  4,  34,  46,  69,  76,  84 
Telemarken,  Syd,  48 
Teuton,  175 
Thaulow,  Fritz,  25,  27 
•Theater,  National,  37 
Theseus,  7 1,  72,  73 
Things,  71,  72,  73 
Thingsted,  71 


Thingsvoll,  72 

Thomasson,  304,  305 

Thompson,  Captain,  58,  225 

Thor,  98,  276,  279 

Thorgeir,  88,  IOO 

Thorkel,  98,  99 

Thorvaldsen,  28,  29,  30 

Thursar,  276 

Tidemand,  Adolf,  20,  21,  33 

Tiundaland,  View  of,  100 

Tjoflat,  74 

Tjomo,  6 

Tokheim,  69 

Tokheimfos,  69 

Tonsberg,  6 

Torenut,  82 

Torfisk,  228 

Tor  Stuen,  185 

Torv,  Stor,  88 

Tostig,  King,  214 

Triassic,  The,  271 

Troldhaugen,  126,  134 

Trollhattan,  52,  181 

Trollhaven,  181 

Trolls,  79 

Troltinderne,  185 

Tromso,  235 

Tromso  Sund,  230 

Trondhjem,  71,  191,  193,  234 

Cathedral  of,  29,  57,  191 

Tryfing,  13,  15 

Tryggvason,  Olaf,  87,  88,  89,  90, 
9i»  92,  95.  96,  97,  98,  99.  loo, 

IOI,   III,  2O9,  2IO 

Tuscany,  Grand  Duke  of,  105 
Tydskebryggen,  100,  113 

Ud,  303 

Ulf,  92,  93,  loo 

Ulrikken,  102 

Upsal,  39 

Urd,  138 

Useafot,  Thorstein,  99,  100 

Utkjel,  74 

Utne,  73 

Utrecht,  8 

Utsire,  62 

Vaagen,  in,  118 

Valhalla,  279 

Valholl,  276 

Valkendorf,  Christopher,  115 


INDEX 


315 


Valkyrie,  227 

Valle,  54,  55 

Van  de  Velde,  117,  118 

Vangsvand,  142 

Vapnathing,  72 

Vardekolle,  8 

Veblungsnas,  180 

Vectis,  i,   33,  41,    146,   169,   174, 

293,  298,  302 

Veien,  Keiser  Wilhelms,  34 
Verdandi,  138,  139 
Vermeer,  17 
Vikin,  Men  of,  88 
Viking,  87,  137,  275 
Viking  Age,  10,  276 
Viking  Rolf  Ganger,  204 
Vikings'  ships,  9,  17 
Viola  hanitamis,  255 
"Virgins,  Five  Foolish,"  59 
Visnaes,  1 68,  169 
Volsung  Atila,  277 
Voluspa,  279 
Voss,  121,  138,  140,  143 


Vosse-Elv,  136 
Vossevangen,  136,  140 
Vrangfos,  52,  53 

Wagner,  So 

Walrus,  50 

Wentzel,  Gustav,  25,  28 

Wenzel,  129 

Werenskiold,  25,  26,  27 

Wergeland,  30 

Wessel,  Peter,  216 

William,  Mattieu,  42 

Wimmer,  196 

Winchester,  58 

Woden,  276 

Woodmen,  51 

Woods,  Bergen  and  Tromso,  256 

Yacht,  Royal,  154 
Yarrell,  294 
Ynglinga  Saga,  13 
Yodl,  43 
Ytre  Samlen,  63,  75 


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